Shadow Hunter: Traitor
by Kikide
Summary: AU. Leo was raised off-world by a mysterious race of aliens to be a hunter. When he is sent to Earth to hunt down a Traitor to his masters' people, he finds something he wasn't expecting. Can a family regain what was lost, and can a prodigal brother finally find his way home?
1. Prologue

**For those of you familiar with my Blended Family AU, welcome. Be aware, this is a completely new world, and is totally AU. If you are not a fan of Alternate Universes, then please find something else to read. Hopefully, this story will find as welcoming an audience as my previous stories have.**

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He sat silently, patiently, waiting for the appearance of his prey. The Traitor was here, he could feel his presence; all he had to do was wait for him to appear. When he did, the hunter would provide the justice the Traitor had brought upon himself; justice for his slain battle-kin, and for his master's people.

The young hunter, for all that he was a native of this small planet, was very atypical of the majority of its inhabitants. What he understood from the little his master had told him, his creation was the result of Terran reptile coming in contact with some sort of mutagenic compound. Of course, since he'd only been his master's pupil since the age of eight, the young hunter had no clue to his earliest years beyond a few vague memories. Those memories, hazy and indistinct though they might be, had gotten him through the arduous and agonizing process that had turned him into the warrior he was today. The warmth and security of those obscure memories offset the clinical cruelty at his master's hand during his training. It always made the youngster, in a bizarre way, relieved he lacked the ability to speak. He knew without being told his master couldn't know about the memories, or else he would methodically and cold heartedly force his pupil to expunge them from his mind.

A sudden sound abruptly drew the young hunter from his thoughts. Settling his mind, he began drawing his life force through the sigils and runes, or Spirit marks, which had been painfully and painstakingly tattooed on his skin. Although there were hundreds of (they literally covered him from head to toe), he was only calling on the power of two: enhanced sight and hearing. Once the senses were at their full strength, the turtle quickly looked around for the source of the disturbance. He wasn't expecting to find something that was going to change his life forever.


	2. Strangers Like Me

His sense of sight hearing heightened by the Spirit marks etched into his flesh, the young warrior was able to clearly see the three figures making their way across the rooftops not too far from his position. He was surprised to see they too had been trained in the Way of the Shadow, but that wasn't what shocked him most. No, the most unexpected thing about the approaching trio was their appearance. Although his master had never outright stated it, he had highly intimated that the young hunter was the last of his kind. Since the young turtle had vague memories of others like him, his logical assumption had always been that something disastrous had happened, leaving him the sole survivor. That assumption was being challenged by unforeseen arrival of these three new mutant turtles.

Before the young hunter could fully process the presence of these strangers like him, something else flickered across his consciousness, pulling his attention away. There, coming toward him, was the Traitor. His pleasure at having at having his patience pay off was immediately offset by the realization that the three strange turtles were also in the path of the oncoming threat. For reasons he couldn't fully explain logically, the young hunter felt very protective of the three other turtles. He sent a silent plea to any deities that might be listening that the three strangers would be kept out of the looming clash. The deities were either busy or not inclined to listen, for the Traitor had taken note of the three turtles and had changed course to intercept them.

"What are you trying terrapins doing traipsing through my territory," the Traitor asked in a cold voice as he came face-to-face with the trio.

"Certainly not coming to listen to you spout off tongue twisters," the red-masked turtle shot back. "But we did hear of some strange goings-on around here over the past several weeks. You haven't exactly been subtle here lately Bishop. We felt it behooved us to come take a look around."

"I don't think so," the Traitor, or Bishop, replied. "What goes on here is none of your business. Keep out of it."

"People, civilians, were hurt in that last disruption," the purple-masked turtle suddenly piped up. "You're going to get someone, an innocent, killed. We can't let you continue doing whatever it is you're doing."

"You're certainly welcome to try and stop me," Bishop told him.

Recognizing the inevitable conflict that was about to erupt, the young hunter knew he could delay any longer. Having watched the way they moved he had no doubt his three earth-trained counterparts were able to hold their own in most fights, but Bishop was Shadow trained and Spirit-marked. Like the young warrior, the Traitor was able to use his life force to enhance his battle skills. Though his Spirit marks were hidden beneath the concealment of his body armor, the turtle could feel when the other man began to channel energy through them.

Bracing himself, the turtle began to do the same. As soon as the energy began coursing through the marks covering his body, the now familiar sensation of bee-sting sharp pain began to buzz over his skin. If not for years of training and experience the painful sensation might have been a distraction. However, the hunter had long since learned to ignore the discomfort. Pulling his twin swords from their sheaths on his back, the hunter launched himself into the air, covering the distance between himself and his quarry at an impossible speed. A final flip landed him silently between the Traitor and the three strange turtles.

For a long moment, no one said a thing as both sides mentally adjusted to the new development. Unsurprisingly, it was the Traitor who regained his equilibrium first. In the same cold, disinterested voice he'd used before he said, "So, the 'council' has finally sent in its pet. I'd ask if you really understood what was going on here, but even if they had told you anything, from what I understand, you can't answer me anyway. So, why don't we forego the pleasantries and get on with it!"

Moving almost faster than the eye could track, the two combatants came together. The next fifteen minutes were a blur of blows, blocks, parries, and counterblows. With neither participant seeming to grow tired the battle might have continued indefinitely, if Bishop hadn't unwittingly found an unforeseen chink in his opponent's armor.

Grabbing a shuriken from where it had fallen to the ground after he dodged it, Bishop flung it back at his nemesis. The turtle had already moved out of its path, however, and was closing in on an opening in his enemy's defenses, when he realized the young orange-masked turtle was now in the path of the oncoming projectile. Acting on something so primal it went beyond instinct, the hunter did the only thing he could to protect the other turtle; he stepped in front of him and took the strike himself.

The shuriken buried itself deep in the hunter's shoulder, sending a shockwave of pain and numbness down his arm. Only his training prevented him from losing his hold on his weapon. What was more, the force of the blow had forced the projectile deep enough into the tissue of his shoulder that it was going to take medical intervention to remove it.

"So," Bishop drawled as he took in the hunter's actions. "You masters haven't beaten the compassion out of you completely. Let's see just how far you're willing to go to protection these…outsiders."

With that, the conflict shifted as the young hunter was forced into a strictly defensive strategy as Bishop began focusing his whole attack on the other three turtles. As the off-worlder had predicted, the other turtles were quite capable of looking after themselves, just not against an opponent as fast and as strong as the Traitor. The hunter very quickly found his endurance pushed to the limit as he tried to be everywhere at once. Though he was able to fall naturally in rhythm with his three "allies" that was slowly but surely wearing the Traitor down, he was still forced to deflect or absorb an innumerable number of punishing and damaging blows that would have crippled or killed any of the others had they landed.

The hunter was beginning to wonder how much longer he could hold out, when there suddenly came a lull in the action. Grateful for the chance to catch his breath, but knowing an enemy as wily as the Traitor never acted without reason, the hunter moved to once again make sure he was between the enemy and his new associates. It didn't take long to recognize his opponent's new play, for in his hand was a small but powerful explosive device; one of his former battle-kin had had a remarked appreciation for this exact type of apparatus. He could only figure the Traitor had taken it off his compatriot after killing him.

"I see you recognize this little tool," Bishop said, pulling the hunter's attention away from his thoughts. "You know what it does, then. Since I can't afford to grant you any more attention this evening, I'm going to give you a choice. You see, in about 60 seconds, this is going to detonate. I'm certain your master has taught you how to shield, but here's the catch. You can, of course, choose to shield yourself, giving you plenty of time to catch up to me and continue with this little battle of wills. But if you do, then your new little playmates will be eradicated. On the other hand, you can elect to shield them instead, keeping them safe, but I very much doubt you will be in much shape to come after me. Let's see how much of your conscience your masters left you."

And with that, he threw the small disk-shaped device at the turtles' feet as he took off in the opposite direction. Knowing he only had a split second to make a decision, the hunter turned to the trio of masked turtles. Spreading his arms, he flexed his will, his life force bursting from his Spirit marks to create a spherical barrier around the turtles that would, hopefully, protect them from harm. No sooner was the shield up than the device went off. If the hunter had had use of his voice, he would have screamed at the agony of the heat and force that pummeled him as both his body and his life force repelled, then absorbed the incredible power of the explosion. Then, as quickly as it had struck, it was gone. The hunter barely had time to acknowledge that fact before he collapsed, darkness taking him before his knees even had time to hit the ground.

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**So here's where I need to know if there is enough interest in this story to keep going. I have some ideas about where I see this narrative going; I just want to make sure there's going to be an audience. And for those waiting for the next chapter of Six Turtles, I'm working on it. Unfortunately, both Raph and Donny are being a bit tight-lipped at the moment, while this Leo is just begging to have his story told. Once I can pry something out of the other two, I will update (and hopefully finish) the other story.**


	3. Familiar Stranger

**As with all of my fics, please understand that I push medical fact. So, just suspend your disbelief and go with the flow.**

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When the strange turtle collapsed at his feet, Raphael was momentarily at a loss as to what to do. From the moment they had confronted Bishop the night had taken a decidedly bizarre turn. Fortunately, Donatello was a little more clear-headed, able to focus on the potential emergency right in front of them.

Kneeling next to the unconscious turtle he began a visual inspection, evaluating the damage. There were the obvious wounds he already knew about, like the shuriken still imbedded in the stranger's shoulder, as well as a number of other cuts and gashes he'd sustained while defending them. A little more concerning were the burns all over his back from the heat of the explosion he'd just saved them from. Donatello couldn't begin to explain how he'd done it, but there was no denying the other turtle had paid the price for protecting them.

The most alarming and mystifying issue, however, were the bizarre marks that covered the unidentified turtle from head to toe. They looked like a mish-mash of Japanese kanji, Arabic script, and ancient Egyptian. What was more, they were almost painfully hot to the touch. Donatello couldn't begin to imagine what they must feel like to their enigmatic bearer.

"So what the verdict, bro," Michelangelo asked, his quiet voice interrupting the purple-clad turtle's thoughts.

"He's not doing so well," Donatello admitted. "And I haven't even turned him over to see what his front side looks like." He turned to look at Raphael. "We're going to need some help getting him home so I can clean him up properly."

"Are you sure that's a good idea," Michelangelo asked a little timidly. "We don't know anything about this guy, or those creepy abilities of his."

Raphael could understand his little brother's hesitation; Michelangelo was the most sensitive of the turtles, and due to some bad experiences in their youth, had become very guarded. Fortunately, the older two turtles had become quiet adept at maneuvering around his issues.

"He saved our lives, bro," Donatello gently reminded him. "He helped us fight Bishop, and he could have cut and run, or just saved himself, with that whole explosive thing, but he didn't. We can't leave him here hurt like this. Besides," he teased just a gently, "aren't you the least bit curious about him? I mean, another mutant turtle? Kind of a huge coincidence, don't you think?"

"Guess you're right," Michelangelo finally admitted. "We owe him, if nothing else."

"Then while the two of you get him ready to transport, I'll give Casey a call," Raphael said. "He and April can bring the van to pick us up. We'll get him home and cleaned up, and we'll go from there."

TMNT

It took Donatello over two hours after they got home to get his unusual patient cleaned up, and all of his wounds patched up. Currently he had the unconscious turtle laid out on his stomach and covered in cold, wet towels. This was partly due to the extensive burns that covered his back, but also because the disturbing marks scrawled all over his skin continued to be hot to the touch. Having done all he could for the moment, Donatello went in search of his brothers. He found them at the kitchen table just sitting down to eat some of Raphael's chicken noodle soup.

"So," the oldest turtle asked once they had all had a chance to sate their initial hunger pains. "Pick up any more information about Sleeping Beauty in there?"

"A little, and all of it disturbing," Donatello said. "From what I saw while examining him, I'd have to say our new acquaintance has not had it easy. He has lots of scars; and when I say lots, I mean dozens of dozens, all over his body. But the weirdest thing was, as I was cleaning him up, it felt like I should know him…"

"Donny," Michelangelo prompted when his brother's voice trailed off, his tone somewhere between a plea and a warning. They all knew what the family genius was considering, but it was just wishful thinking. Their missing fourth was gone for good, and it wouldn't do any of them any good to crack that Pandora's box again, especially on Michelangelo's part.

Needing to change the subject quickly, Raphael asked about the peculiar marks on the other turtle's skin.

"As far as I can tell, they're some type of tattoo," Donatello told him. "But not like any sort of tattoo I've ever encountered."

"How's that," Raphael asked, genuinely curious.

"From what I can tell, those marks were cut into his skin using some sort of very sharp blade, like a scalpel, and then ink was added to the cuts, permanently staining the resultant scars. It would have been excruciatingly painful, not to mention time consuming. I mean, he has them everywhere, even along each of his fingers, up the insides of both legs, and even under the edge of his shell. The only places without them are his eyelids, the palms of his hands, and the soles of his feet."

The expression on his brother's faces reflected his own dismay, but Donatello wasn't done.

"I'm afraid it gets worse," he told them. "The 'ink' they used is an unusual mixture of gold, silver, copper, and some other metal I can't identify. I can't say for certain, but I think the metals were still molten when they were applied. They'd have cauterized the wounds as they were applied, but I can't figure out how it was done without disfiguring, or even killing him, in the process."

His brothers were shocked, and more than a little sickened, by the revelation. Michelangelo in particular, was disturbed by the thought of the sheer torture their rescuer had undergone.

"Who would do something like that," he asked. "And why would he let him?"

"Guess we'll have to ask him when he wakes up," Raphael said. "But for now, why don't you two head off to bed?"

"I should…"Donatello started to protest, but his older brother cut him off.

"I'll keep an eye on Rip Van Winkle. If he gets worse, I'll come get you. But for tonight, I think Michelangelo's going to need you. He responds to you better after the nightmares, and I'm afraid he'll be in store for one or two tonight."

Having to acknowledge the truth of his brother's words, Donatello agreed. After giving him instruction for looking after their injured guest, the purple-masked turtle followed his younger brother to bed.

Alone at last with the unconscious turtle, Raphael finally had the chance to study him a little more closely. He hadn't been willing to admit it earlier, but like Donatello said, he felt like there was something very familiar about the stranger. From the moment the new turtle had interposed himself between them and Bishop, the red-masked turtle had been certain he recognized him, like déjà vu from a half-remembered dream. Except, if Raphael was right, it wasn't a dream but a memory that resonated with the newcomer. Now, without his younger brothers around to ask uncomfortable questions, Raphael was able to determine if what he suspected was true, or if his mind was simply playing a cruel trick on him.

Ever so gently, he ran his fingers along the inside of the unconscious turtle's right ankle. The heat from the marks was only just now at a tolerable level, but the scarred nature of the marks made finding what he was looking for almost impossible to find. Raphael was about to admit defeat when his fingers found it: an old scar, thick and puckered, about three inches long; just how he remembered it.

Raphael wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Suddenly, having found that one familiar scar, he was able to pick out two more he recognized from the myriad of old scars and convoluted tattoos that covered the foreigner's body. Moving to where he could see the not-stranger's face, Raphael was stunned he hadn't recognized it before. Ten years may have passed, but Raphael was beyond certain he was right. His heart knew what his mind wasn't certain of.

Whispering to himself as much as to the insensible figure on the bed, he said, "Hello, Leonardo."

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**So, if any of you have seen Stargate SG-1, you'll be familiar with the character of Teal'c. I imagine Leonardo's tattoos were formed little like his, only they are a dark green/grey color. I'll make sure I mention that in a later chapter, since I couldn't figure out how to work it in this one without it sounding funny. Anyway, I have most of chapter 4 written, so that should be up in the next day or so.**


	4. Stranger in a Strange Land

**I am going to label this chapter T-16, just as a warning. There is nothing explicit, or even specific, said, but the intimation of more mature ideas is hinted at. And just to let you know, I've knocked Leo's feet out from underneath him completely. However, that means we can start working on some of the comfort. This chapter is also longer than I had planned, but I couldn't figure out a good place to separate it, so it what it is.**

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When Raphael shared his conclusions with his next younger brother the next morning after their morning workout, doubtful didn't even begin to cover his reaction.

"Bro, I would give anything for you to be right and this guy to be Leonardo, but we have to face facts: our big brother was killed ten years ago in that sewer flood," Donatello maintained. "We were all there. I certainly haven't forgotten how he got Michelangelo to safety, following his fall into the water, only to slip when he tried to pull himself out. Master Splinter searched for days, but finally concluded Leonardo got washed out to sea. You know all this, so why torture yourself with false hope?"

"Because it's not false," Raphael argued. "He's got the scar on his ankle. I know that scar; Master Splinter made me stitch it up to make me understand the consequences of my actions, since I was the one who caused the gash in the first place."

"That scar could have come from anywhere! The poor guy is covered in scars. That's not definitive proof," Donatello countered.

"Then what about the way he moved last night, his style of fighting? How many times did we see that exact combination he used when he first leaped between us and Bishop? Leo used to practice it over and over again, particularly that little twist at the end that let him land facing whatever direction he needed to. He was determined to get it perfected."

"I still don't buy it," Donatello said. "But it's not worth arguing over. Just, don't say anything about this to Michelangelo. You know he still has night-terrors about that day, and he's never gotten over the guilt that we lost Leo because our big brother was rescuing him."

"Agreed," Raphael concurred. He very clearly remembered those dark days directly following the accident. He wouldn't willingly open his baby brother up to that kind of pain. Until he was certain their big brother was home, he'd consign his suspicions to silence to protect their youngest sibling.

Any further discussion on the topic was put on hold as Michelangelo stuck his head through the doorway and, without preamble, announced, "He's awake."

TMTN

The young hunter gradually came back to awareness. He immediately knew he wasn't back in his master's care. For one thing, the air smelled different, more earthen and humid. Secondly, whatever he was lying on was much more comfortable that his pallet in his master's quarters. Drawing on the sigil for mind-speech, he called out for his master, but received no response. His mental calls grew louder and more desperate, but all he got was silence in return. Finally, he turn to his last resort, the one thing he could be severely punished for manipulating: the psychic bond embedded deep in his mind that connected him to his master. It had been put in place when he was selected for training, and once engaged, a full bond was necessary to maintain the trainee's health. The bond was both a leash and a teaching tool. Through the bond, his master had instructed him on the use of the Spirit marks. It also served to insure he remained totally loyal to his own master. While the young warrior couldn't do much more than sense his trainer's presence through the bond, for the master the bond was a way to monitor a pupil's well-being, as well as administer discipline as needed. Only in times of emergency could the bond be used as a means of communication between retainer and master.

_Master,_ the young warrior called once more in desperation.

_I am no master to thee, Oathbreaker,_ the cold, disgusted response finally came. _Thou swore to hunt down and destroy the Traitor, but you chose those lowly Terran mutants over your sworn duty._

_Master, I…_

_Silence! Thou hast failed me, and brought dishonor upon me. Thou hast left me little choice; I repudiate thee. I will support our bond no longer. Since thou hast chosen the Terrans, thou canst abase thyself before them. Their drudge thou art now._

And with that, his former master abandoned the bond. Horror and shame filled the young hunter as he began to take in what had just happened. His master, using the mental tether to monitor the mission, had seen his choice to protect the Terrans rather than continue his pursuit of the Traitor. Rightfully disgusted by his pupil's abandonment of duty he had exercised his prerogative to terminate the bond. Fiery disgust and self-reproach lased through the hunter's mind much like the laser prods his mast…former master had used during the earliest days of his training. There could be no escaping the truth of his master's condemnation; he was a failure, and had brought dishonor to his master by failing to fulfill his vow.

That didn't stop the pain or sense of resentment. His master could have brought him home and arranged for another teacher to take over and provide re-training; it was a common punishment for mistakes made during a mission. It would have saved face for his master, but kept a powerful weapon in use. Another choice would have been to cauterize the bond, leaving him to survive by his own wits on what was essentially a strange world, an unappealing prospect for one who had been forced to depend on his master for his support and care for the majority of his life. Instead, his master had simply abandoned the bond, leaving his former pupil exposed, vulnerable, and accessible to anyone who wished to claim him.

This was one instant where being away from his master's world was a mixed blessing, for had he been back there, he would have been even more vulnerable, as he was used and passed around by anyone willing, even temporarily, to bond with him, desperation and despondency forcing him to submit. An unsealed bond was like a raw wound that wouldn't heal, or a thirst that could not be quenched, and the pain only got worse the longer he went without a full bond. Early on in his training his master had left the bond open for two weeks as punishment, and the anguish had been unspeakable. The hunter had always empathized with the drudges, who were willing to do _anything_ to escape the agony of an always-open bond. He had seen drudges forced to do unspeakably humiliating things in order to earn the reprieve of full bonded, even if for just a small moment. And now the former hunter was one of them. Worse, he was a drudge on an alien planet facing a lifetime of agony if he couldn't find someone compatible, and willing, to bond with him. No, worse than that. By his master's words, he was the drudge of these Earthers he'd had no choice but to protect; he belonged to them now, to do with as they pleased.

The young warrior wasn't aware he was crying until a soft touch on his face wiped the hot, salty moisture away, and a gentle voice asked, "Hey, are you okay?"

Looking up to meet young, concerned eyes, the only thing he could do was shake his head. Even if he hadn't lacked the ability to speak, words would have been beyond him. He was as far from okay as he could get. The thought just made the tears fall faster, adding shame for his weakness to his already long list of sins. Except, this young new overlord of his wasn't responding the way he expected him to.

"Shh, it be will alright," the other turtle soothed as he rubbed gentle circles on the hurting turtle's shell, the one place he was certain he wouldn't hurt him. The unfamiliar and unlooked-for kindness just made the injured turtle cry even harder.

On Michelangelo's part, he was growing more and more alarmed by the distraught behavior, and the youngest turtle knew he needed to get more experienced assistance. "I'll be right back," he told the silently sobbing turtle.

Moving at a pace just short of a run, the orange-masked turtle headed toward the dojo where his older brothers should just be finishing up their morning practice. Pausing just briefly to regain his breath, he stuck his head in the door and declared, "He's awake." Then, before either of his brothers could ask any questions, he rushed to add, "But I think something's wrong. He's just lying there, crying."

Without waiting to hear more, the two older turtles swiftly made their way to the infirmary where they found their guest just as Michelangelo had said. The heartbroken and lost look on his face would have been disturbing enough, but the sudden fear that blossomed at their appearance made it even worse.

Moving slowly, like one might do around a wounded animal, Raphael carefully approached the bed, though every instinct was yelling for him to throw caution out the door and just engulf the wounded turtle in a hug. He was unprepared, therefore, for the tattooed figure to abruptly slip off the bed, going to his hand and knees, his forehead touching the floor.

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**So, how's Raphael going to react to this development? It won't be pretty, that's for sure.**


	5. Stranger Than Fiction

**This chapter took me a bit to get done. I knew what was going to happen, but I ended up re-writing it. Anyway, things get a little uglier here. It's not graphic, but if a mention of painful things make you squeemish, you might want to be careful.**

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The abrupt departure of the younger turtle was enough to startle the former hunter out of the worst of his grief, though silent tears continued to roll down his face. Obviously he'd done something to scare the youngling off, and he'd no doubt run to fetch his elders. At least, that's what he thought the youngster had said; he'd still been reeling too much from recent events to pay much attention to the stripling attempting to comfort him.

The young warrior barely had the chance to begin composing himself when the two older turtles charged into the room. Despite his attempts at setting himself to rights, the mute turtle knew he must still look a mess. Not exactly the best first impression for the ones who now controlled his life.

The injured turtle took the opportunity to observe his new owners, as this was the first time he'd had to get a good look at them. The muscular, red-masked turtle was obviously the leader from the way he put himself between the others and what he perceived to be a potential threat. That would make the purple-masked turtle his second in command; his body-language was protective of the young orange-masked turtle that trailed in behind him.

Focusing his attention on the leader who was now approaching him, the off-worlder franticly tried to interpret the emotions his new overlord's face and body-language were conveying. His former master had only ever shown two emotions: harsh anger for failure, and cold, cruel pleasure for success and absolute obedience. Neither of those seemed to correspond with his new master's feelings, but the new drudge felt it best to play it safe. Moving as fast as his battered and painted body would go, he dropped to the floor in the Position of Submission.

He sat there, quivering, waiting for the pain he was certain was coming, but it never did. Instead, the red-masked turtle spluttered off a string of words he'd never heard before. Then, there was a soft touch on his shoulder, followed instantly by an almost electric shock that ran through both turtles. For a brief moment, the bond flared to life as it made a connection with the new turtle, and the bowed warrior could sense the other's mind.

That fleeting moment of relief was shattered, though, by his new master's rather violent response. The other turtle jumped back, breaking the physical contact, but through the newly formed bond the suffering turtle could sense his shock and outrage. This, at least was familiar ground, and the drudge waited for the punishment he _knew_ was coming this time. From his former master it would have been the application of the laser prod to vulnerable and sensitive portions of his anatomy, or a stropping with a razor cord to the tender flesh along the back of his legs. But nothing happened.

_Maybe he's testing me_, the frightened turtle thought. _Maybe he wants me to demonstrate I know my place_. Biting his lip in preparation for the agony to come, the turtle triggered his former master's favorite punishment for disobedience. Pushing his will out through his still tender Spirit marks, he began to bring their temperature up. In a matter of moments they went from their normal dark green-gray to a molten red-white. If he could have made a sound, the turtle would have whimpered, for the torment was tremendous, as it felt like the marks were going to burn through to his bones, but he would hold out as long as his new masters desired. He'd once done so for three days straight; he could last until these three decided he'd paid his penance.

TMNT

When the injured turtle fell to his hand and knees at Raphael's feet, the red-masked turtle was momentarily startled, and he let out a string of curses his father would have washed his mouth out with soap for, had the elderly rat not been on his yearly pilgrimage to see the Ancient One. Once he got over his astonishment, though, Raphael knew he couldn't leave the obviously hurting turtle huddled like that on the floor. He reached out to touch the quivering turtle's shoulder, but as soon as his hand connected with the tattoo covered flesh, a sharp, almost electric shock zapped through him, seeming to settle in the back of his brain. Snatching his hand back like he'd been slapped, Raphael jumped back, startling his brothers.

"What's wrong, Raphael," Donatello asked, concern and wariness in his voice.

"He just…zapped me," Raphael growled. "It was some kind of psychic charge or something, because as soon as I touched him, I could feel him inside my head. What the shell was he thinking?! I was only trying to help him up."

"Maybe it was some kind of self-defense mechanism," Donatello postulated. "I mean, the last thing he might have remembered before he went unconscious was the fight with Bishop. If he was in pain and upset, he might have misconstrued your approach as some sort of attack."

"Uh, guys, can we talk about this later," Michelangelo interrupted. "I think there's something seriously wrong with our new friend here."

The two older turtles turned to look where Michelangelo was pointing. The previously dark green-gray markings covered almost every bare inch of the strange turtle's skin were now an ugly red-white color, like the color of heated metal, and his face was a mask of agony.

Raphael's eyes went wide in horror. "What's he doing? And more importantly, why is he doing it? He's obviously hurting himself; is he some kind of masochist or something?"

At those words, the pieces finally seemed to fall in place, and Donatello came to a rather revolting conclusion. "Not a masochist, Raphael, a slave, and I think hurting himself it kind of the point; it's some cruel, extreme version of self-punishment."

"How do we get him to stop," Michelangelo asked, beginning to sound panicky. "I mean, he's not a slave here; he doesn't have to do that to himself."

"I don't think it's going to be that easy, little brother," Donatello said. "Given the state of his body, he's been abused for a very, very long time. I think pain and punishment are all he knows, given how quickly he acted to punish himself in the face of Raphael's… distress."

"We can worry about all this later," Raphael growled. "We need to get him to stop. Now."

"I think our best bet is to use his own responses against him," Donatello said. "Ugh, I almost hate myself for doing this, but here goes nothing." Standing up as tall as he could, Donatello imperiously told the turtle at his feet, "Enough; the punishment's complete!"

Almost immediately the red faded from the marks, though it was obvious the name-less turtle was still in pain.

"Hurry, bring me a sheet soaked in cold water," Donatello told his younger brother. "We need to get his skin cooled back down."

While the youngest turtle ran to comply, Raphael asked, "What can I do?"

"Find me the morphine and a clean syringe," Donatello told him. "Also, look and see if you can find the aloe gel. Once we get him cooled down enough to touch, I'm going to knock him out for a while, and then apply the aloe. After today's events, I think it would be best if we kept him under for a few days, at least until he's healed up some. We then need to sit down as a family and discuss what we're going to do next. Whether he is who you think he is or not, no one deserves to be mistreated as he's clearly been."

"This isn't some stray puppy we're talking about here," Raphael pointed out. "Even if it is _him_, putting him back together is going to take a lot of time and patience."

"Which is why we have to come to a conclusion as a family," Donatello said. "I can't begin to imagine how Michelangelo's going to respond to this. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's get him settled, and then we'll talk."

Raphael already knew what his suggestion was going to be. Whether the Brainiac was willing to admit it or not, that was their brother, and it would only be over his broken shell that Leonardo was leaving them again.

* * *

**So, Leo's old master was a bigger b****** than we thought. Well, Raphael and the others are on the case now, so Leo will start to get the care he needs.**


	6. Stranger Tales than These

**First, I want to thank all of my reviewers. Your kind words have meant everything to me. I'm so glad this story has had such a great receptions. Now, i want to appologize for how long it's taken to get this out. I have been working on this chapter all week. I'm not entirely happy with how it turned out, but I'm not feeling my best, and this is the best it's going to get. Still, I hope everyone enjoys it.**

* * *

After getting the injured turtle's skin cooled down, Donatello quickly administered the morphine. The family genius didn't make a big deal of it at the time, but he too was subjected to static-shock like psychic zap as he was applying the aloe gel to the inured turtle's overheated skin. Having seen Raphael's extreme response, Donatello was startled but not alarmed by the sensation. After giving everything a moment to settle, the purple-masked turtle discovered he was able to sense just where applying the aloe would provide the most relief. It was, to say the least, an odd sensation.

After getting their guest settled, the three turtles convened their family council around the kitchen table, where the suddenly ravenous trio finally had the opportunity to have breakfast.

"I guess we have a number of things to address this morning," Raphael said between bites of cereal. "First, what are we going to do with our unexpected visitor? Second, if we let him stay, what about that psychic thing of his? But before we get to either of those issues, maybe Donatello can explain how he came to the whole 'he's a slave' conclusion. That was kind of a jump, wasn't it?"

"You're going to laugh at me," Donatello warned, though the smile he was trying to hide revealed he was already laughing at himself, and would take such a reaction seriously.

"Probably," Raphael agreed, "but tell us anyway."

"It was a combination of things," Donatello said. "Part of it was all those scars. They made me thing about a psychology book I read a couple of years ago about victims of abuse. We certainly saw some of that, but his reaction was more extreme. So while that was rolling around in the back of my mind, our new friend did that falling on his face thing. This is where you're going to laugh at me, but it made me think about the movie _The King and I_. April begged me to watch it with her the other night while the two of you were out with Casey." After waiting for the laughter and teasing to die down, Donatello continued, "There's a fine line between abuse and slavery; in many ways the two overlap. It was the self-punishment that clenched it for me, though. Our friend didn't react like a victim, laying down and just accepting punishment; he proactively instigated the punishment, like a twisted version of Pavlov's dog. The master gets angry, and he automatically began the punishment to demonstrate he knew his 'place,' hoping to appease or mitigate the correction he was certain was coming anyway."

"That's just…sick," Michelangelo concluded. "How do we go about fixing it?"

"Before we even get to that point, we need talk about the whole psychic thing," Raphael said. "If we're right, we're not just talking about physical, emotional, and mental abuse and slavery, but psychic as well. Are we even prepared to take something like that on?"

"The mental connection's not so bad," Donatello said. He explained his experience from earlier that morning. "I was actually able to use the connection to figure out how best to help him, even with him drugged up and unconscious."

"So it doesn't bother you," the red-masked leader asked.

"Not in the least," his younger brother replied. "But this does lead us to the next question: do we want to take on the responsibility of helping this poor guy? It's not going to be a quick or easy fix, not given everything he's been through."

"Of course we're going to help him," Michelangelo responded with surprising fervency. "I think it's kinda our fault he's in trouble to begin with."

"How do you figure that," Raphael asked.

"Because he wasn't like this, with the cringing and bowing stuff, last night," the youngest explained. "He fought to keep us safe from Bishop, and then he risked his life protecting us from that explosion. But before that, there was all of Bishop's talk about 'the council's pet,' and his 'masters' not wiping out his compassion completely. If this guy's a slave, he was probably given very strict orders; orders he deviated from by saving us. That's couldn't have pleased his master any. So what if, in response, he was disowned or abandoned?"

"If he really is a slave, I'd have to think he'd be pretty valuable property," Donatello protested. "As highly trained as he is, I wouldn't think they'd want to just let him go."

"It all comes down to comic book logic," Michelangelo replied cryptically. When is brothers started to scoff, he went on to explain, "We all know about the psychic link between the stranger and both of you, so I ask you: why would someone want their slave to have such a powerful skill, unless it was meant to be a leash to keep him under control? So here you have this powerful weapon, carefully groomed and crafted and seemingly tightly bound to you, and unexpectedly it turns on you. In a comic book, if you're an evil sociopathic narcissist, you're not going to take kindly to your toy, your property, stepping out of line like that. For this guy, this type of character, there are two ways he can respond. First, he can use the mental bond to severely punish the slave, but if your trained killer is already fighting the leash, there's a good chance that's not going to work; at least not in the long run. Eventually, he's going to grow tired of the mistreatment and turn, violently, on his owner. The second option, therefore, is for the 'master' to abandon his pet."

"I'm not sure I see how that could be considered a punishment," Raphael said doubtfully.

"Maybe not to us, but what if you were a slave, beaten and brainwashed into believing your whole life's purpose is to serve your master? Your whole identity and self-worth would be based on that thought, so what would be worse than being rejected by the one individual that is the center of your whole universe?"

"That's…actually very insightful," Raphael told him. "But bro, you read way too many comic books, if you put that theory together that quickly. In any case, I don't think we'll get the truth of the matter until Sleeping Beauty is awake and more fully in control of his faculties."

"I guess that settles the question of whether he'll be staying or not," Donatello said ruefully.

"If nothing else, we owe him for saving our lives last night," Raphael told him.

"Besides, we can't let him go back to that monster," Michelangelo added with unexpected fierceness. "We'd serve him better by slitting his throat ourselves rather than sending him back there."

"Okay then," Donatello said, a little set back by his younger brother's fervent response. "I guess if we're all agreed we need to work out some logistics. First, where is he going to sleep once he's healed enough to leave the infirmary?"

"Why not give him the fifth bedroom," Raphael suggested.

"But that's…"Michelangelo started to protest.

"I know whose room it is," Raphael cut him off. "And that's why I think it's the perfect place for a turtle that needs to feel safe and protected. If this guy's as sensitive to psychic vibrations or whatever you want to call them, the feelings in our brother's room will have to feel life a comforting hug and a warm bath all rolled into one."

"Besides, basic psychology says individuals that have been victimized like our guy need to feel in control, and a very basic way to give him that is allot him some space that is strictly his," Donatello added. "He needs to be able to shut himself off or invite others in at his own discretion. Giving him the last bedroom will give him that."

The two older turtles waited with baited breath for their younger brother's response. This could be potentially highly traumatic. To their relief, and even greater surprise, Michelangelo simply nodded and said, "Leo would understand. I think he'd like being able to help our new friend like this."

"Well, if that's all settled, I guess we'd better go air the room out and make sure it's livable," Donatello said.

"If you can take care of that, there's one other thing I need to do," Raphael replied.

"Oh, and what is that," his next younger brother asked.

"Writing Master Splinter," Raphael said. "If we're adopting another member of the family, it's only fair we warm him about it before he comes home."

* * *

**I have started the next chapter, but I'm leaving for my best friend's wedding on Wednesday, and I'm not sure I'll have it up by then. I will give it my best, since that is when Leo wakes up, and we start seeing some actual interaction among the brothers.**


	7. A Stranger's Memories

**HI, I'm back. I really hope this chapter makes sense. I know what I wanted to happen, I'm just not certain it's coherent. Hopefully it makes sense, especially since we are finally beginning to see some memories beginning to break through. Oh, and Leo's alter-ego finally has a name. Yay; now I don't have to keep calling him "the hunter" or some variation thereof!**

* * *

When the young hunter finally returned to full consciousness, it was a far different experience. For one, the residual pain from both his battle with the Traitor and his self-punishment had fully dissipated. Secondly, the emptiness at the back of his mind from the broken link with his former master was gone. In its place was a mosaic of shifting, fluid, welcoming emotions, so very different from the harsh, cruel, cold mental touch that used to occupy that place. It took him a moment to realize the alien sensation was similar to the sense of comfort he got from his fragmented memories and dreams. In a way, it felt like coming home in a way his former home never had.

The sound of someone shifting in a chair pulled the off-worlder out his serene thoughts with the cold, hard reminder that his time, and his mind, were even less his own than before. After all, it wouldn't do for a Drudge to keep his master waiting. Opening his bleary eyes, he found his red-masked master waiting for him. Eyes flying fully open, the Drudge moved to dive from the bed to show obeisance to his new owner, but the other turtle seemed to be expecting the move, and pre-empted it by laying a firm yet gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Whoa, easy there big guy," the gruff voice told him. "None of that. Give yourself a moment to get fully awake. I know you've got a lot to adjust to, but let's lay down house rule number one. There will be none of that face-to-the-floor crap. The only one any of us kneel to is our Sensei, and that's it. Now, let's get you up on your feet. You're probably starving by now, so let's get you something to eat, then we can show you around your new home."

As he followed his new master, the young hunter had a hard time processing what was taking place. No Position of Submission? Consideration for _his_ needs? This wasn't how things worked in his world, especially for a Drudge. Where was the anger, the rough hands, the vicious demands, and the humiliation? Certainly not in the strong but gentle hands that helped steady him on his feet, or the guiding yet undemanding touch that led him from the small healing room.

Uncertain and more than a little frightened by this new world that was so different from the one he'd known, the silent turtle followed his master into a small room that was obviously intended for the preparation and consumption of food. He froze in place upon seeing his two younger masters already seated. His instinctive fall to his knees was once again halted by the red-masked leader.

"Uh-uh," he was chided firmly, though there was no anger in the tone. "No kneeling with us, remember. I know it's going to take some getting used to, but you are not our slave. Now, why don't you go sit across from Michelangelo? He's the pest in the orange mask. He's also the baby in the family, so don't pay him much mind. To his right is Donatello; genius, inventor, and medic extraordinaire. Oh, and I'm Raphael; I meant to introduce myself earlier, but we got a little distracted. Now, what do we call you?"

The mute turtle was startled enough by the question to automatically respond by thought-speech _Shadowblade, _until he realized with chagrin his new…companions couldn't hear thought-speech. Feeling a little desperate, he glanced around until his saw the light fixture hanging over the table. Holding his hand up so that it cast a shadow on the table, he pointed to the dark shape. At the others' confused expressions, he waved his hand, making his shadow jump, and gestured again.

"Oh, Shadow," Michelangelo suddenly blurted. "Your name is Shadow."

_Close enough_, the mute turtle responded silently, even as he nodded at the younger turtle.

"Well, Shadow, pull up a chair," Raphael told him. "Hope you like scrambled eggs; it's the only meal Donatello can make without burning it beyond recognition."

Shadow looked at the odd-looking, fluffy yellow substance placed before him. All the food back in the training center had consisted of either nutrient rich but tasteless food cubes, or bland, often cold, gruel. Maybe the masters had eaten food like this, but he certainly hadn't. Hesitantly, he put the first bite into his mouth. His eyes went wide as the, at least to him, explosion of flavor burst over his tongue. He'd never had anything so…sublime. Suddenly ravenous, the emptied his plate in a matter of minutes. He was so involved in his meal he didn't hear the amused chuckles of the three turtles watching him. Shadow was more than a little disappointed when he finished his plateful, but he didn't have time to linger over it as a fresh plate was put in front of him.

After he ate the second plates of food, the turtle called Donatello said, "I think that's enough for now. You haven't eaten solid food in a couple of days, and since I'm not certain how your system is going to respond, let's not push it too much. Here, try a little milk, and then we'll show you're your room and let you get cleaned up. Between the sweat and the aloe, I'm sure you're ready to wash up. After that, well, we'll see what you're up to. You were hurt pretty badly, and I don't want you over doing it."

After downing the creamy white beverage, Shadow followed the healer through the main living area and upstairs to what was obviously a chamber dedicated to personal hygiene.

"All right," the purple-masked turtle told him. "You go ahead and get in the shower. We have a tankless water heater, so you can soak as long as you like. There are towels under the sink. If you need anything, my room is two rooms down to the right. Your room is the one just past mine, so feel free to make yourself at home when you get out. You've had a rough couple of days, so some down time might not be a bad thing."

Once he was alone, Shadow took a moment to try and center himself. He didn't know what to make of his new masters. He desperately wanted to trust their words and the sensations flickering along the bond, but how could he? For his whole life, kindness had simply been a cover up for cruelty; warmth was merely the vague impression of a dream, and compassion a synonym for weakness. But there was no apparent cruelty here, the warmth was very much real, and there could be no mistaking his three new associates as being weak.

Conflicted and confused, Shadow pushed his tangled emotions to the back of his mind and instead focused solely on the first hot shower he could ever remember having. In his former home, baths were short, room temperature affairs. Being able to soak as long he desired? It was an unknown luxury. By the time he was ready to get out, his legs were beginning to shake slightly with fatigue. He quickly dried off and headed off to find the room Donatello indicated was his.

Walking into the room was like walking into a living dream. Shadow was absolutely certain he'd been in this room before. He _knew_ that behind the head of the bed, three rows up, two bricks over was a loose brick. He didn't know what exactly was behind it, but he knew it was there. As the silent turtle stood absorbing the feel of the room, an unexpected knock on the door startled him. Spinning around into an instinctive defensive stance, he found himself face-to-face with Raphael.

"Hey," the red-masked turtle said, keeping his hands up to show he was unarmed, "mind if I come in?"

Shadow was a little bemused at being asked for permission, but he indicated the other turtle could enter. He watched as Raphael looked around the room like it was the first time he'd seen it. Catching his silent companion watching him, Raphael told him, "This used to be my older brother's room. He's been gone for ten years now, but we figured he wouldn't mind you using it…and that's now why I came to see you. Actually, I wanted to apologize."

Shadow gave him an openly disbelieving look, but Raphael continued on.

"I'm sorry for the other day. I didn't mean to hurt you, and I certainly didn't mean for you to hurt yourself…"

Raphael continued speaking, but for Shadow, it was like he was transported to a different time. He was standing very much as he was now, only he was much shorter, and a young Raphael was there too.

"…_I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," the obviously upset younger turtle was saying._

"_It's okay, Raph," Shadow heard himself say. "I know it was an accident."_

"_But I hurt your ankle big time," Raph protested._

"_And you cleaned up," child-Shadow told him. "I'm okay, Raph. My ankle will heal. Everything will be fine." He put a hand over the other turtle-child's heart. After a moment, Raph copied the gesture. The two stood like that for a moment before both nodded and moved to separate. Before they did, though, the red-masked turtle child suddenly flung himself at Shadow's child-self and wrapped his arms around him; a gesture child- Shadow found himself returning whole-heartedly._

"_I love you big brother," Raph whispered fiercely._

"_I love you too," child-Shadow whispered back._

Just as suddenly as it started, the flicker of memory was gone, leaving Shadow facing a puzzled looking Raphael. Shadow couldn't name the impulse that made him do it, but he reached out a hesitant hand and laid it over Raphael's heart. When the other turtle didn't knock his hand off, he took Raphael's hand and placed it over his own heart. Meeting the other turtle's gaze, Shadow saw a combination of shock, relief, and oddly enough, triumph, shining in his eyes. The two turtle stood there for a long moment, then Shadow nodded slightly. Raphael returned the nod and then, still not saying a word, turned and left the room.

* * *

**So I hope that all makes sense. Shadow was having a flashback to his childhood, and he responded to Raphael the way he had in his memory. You might also want to note this is the first time I've used the shortened name of any of the turtles. An important fact, that. Anyway, I hope the next chapter comes a little easier; so y'all hang tight.**


	8. Strange Impossible Dreams

**So, Shadow continues to get clues about his past, and another brother gets a hint their new friends might be more than he seems. to hopefully keep things clear, anything in _italics_ without punctuation is thought-speech. The italicized section between the * marks takes place in the past. Hopefully no one get confused. See AN at the end for further clarifiction.**

* * *

As Raphael left Shadow, no, _Leo's_, room, he couldn't have felt more exultant. He had no further doubts their new acquaintance was truly their older brother. The only ones who had ever known about the heart-to-heart thing had been he and Leo. He couldn't remember when it had started, but it had been their special gesture. It meant everything from "I'm sorry," to "You're welcome," to "I love you." And tonight Shadow had used the gesture _in context._ For a moment, it was like Raphael had slipped back in time. Like a whisper at the back of his mind, about where that new psychic connection lay, he'd have sworn he'd heard his brother say "I love you too;" a strange, impossible dream, but true nonetheless.

Despite his new certainty, Raphael decided not to mention this incident to his brothers. First, the gesture would mean nothing to them; they'd never seen it used. Secondly, he suspected it wouldn't be long before they started having their own experiences. It would be those things that would be more meaningful to his siblings. Finally, he wasn't sure how much Shadow was aware of his past. Raphael had no desire to traumatize or alarm his newly returned brother any more than he already was. It would be much better for everyone if he was allowed to move at his own pace.

His mind made up, Raphael went about his usual routine. He had a premonition that when things began to hit the fan, it was going to get messy quickly.

TMTN

Unsurprisingly, Shadow had worn himself out the first day back on his feet. He'd crashed in his new room, and except to eat the sandwiches provided by Michelangelo, he'd slept the remainder of the day. Raphael was startled, therefore, when he arrived at the dojo the next morning to find the silent turtle already there. If the film of sweat glistening on his body and the used stump of a candle were anything to go by, he'd been there a while.

Upon seeing the younger turtles arrive, Shadow came to a halt and looked at them with something between panic and a plea glinting in his eyes.

"Morning," Raphael greeted him, doing his best, to project a sense of calm and acceptance at the nervous turtle watching them. "Guess you're feeling better, huh?" He was heartened to see the tension slowly drain out of the other's frame, and even more so when Shadow offered him a hesitant smile and a small nod. "We're about to start our morning practice. You can stay if you like. We'd be happy to have you join us." Raphael and his brothers couldn't help chuckling at the surprised delight that lit Shadow's face at the invitation.

After running through the usual warm up, the turtles started their routine sets of increasingly difficult katas. While it was obvious Shadow wasn't family with these particular katas, he demonstrated his obvious innate skill by how quickly he picked up on them.

Following the kata sets came the portion of that day's lesson Raphael had grown to hate. Their sensei had insisted that once a week his sons work with their brothers' weapons. He wanted them to be familiar with all of the weapons so they wouldn't be solely dependent on their primary weapons. For Raphael and Donatello, this was simply a necessary weekly nuisance. For Michelangelo, however, it was something much worse. He handled the sai and the bo training with aplomb, but he nearly fell apart when it came time to pick up the katanas.

It always bothered Raphael to see how upset his baby brother got during these sessions, but experience had taught him there was nothing he could do to help. Their only choice was to leave Michelangelo alone and let him muddle through on his own. Any interference from his brothers or father only seemed to make it worse. Today was proving to be no exception, until Shadow decided to step in and lend an unexpected hand.

TMNT

When Shadow had awoken that morning feeling fully restored, he had decided to seek out the training room he knew had to be located somewhere in his new domicile. Ten years of daily training had instilled the habit in him so deeply, not even his change in circumstance could alter it. After all, he'd been a hunter; training all day had been his life. To his pleasure, he'd found the room fully stocked with everything he'd needed for a proper work-out.

He'd started with a short meditation session to get his mind centered, and then worked his way up to a moderately strenuous level work out, when his new masters arrived, obvious prepared for their own morning practice. A sense of panic and alarm filled the hunter-turned-Drudge as it dawned on him he hadn't sought his masters' permission to engage in his chosen activity. It would be well within their rights to punish him for his transgression. His panic was tempered by hope, however, as he remembered the kindness and consideration he'd already been shown. Surely they wouldn't begrudge him this? At Raphael's calm greeting and friendly invitation, Shadow's hope was fulfilled, and he felt himself relaxing in a way he never had under his former master's so-called care.

The katas were unfamiliar at first, but it didn't take long for him to catch on. Even more peculiar, however, was the sense of déjà vu. Shadow had the firm impression this wasn't the first time he'd stood in this room, training with these very same companions. It was as familiar to him as his new room had been the day before. Somehow, sometime, he'd been here before.

Following the katas, Shadow stepped back to watch as the others traded was were obviously their primary weapons for different weapons. He was pleased to see his new battle-kin, (_Master_, he reminded himself), understood the importance of training with a variety of weapons. Having a preference was fine, but it wouldn't do to be dependent on a single weapon. Everything went well until the turtles reached for Shadow's weapon of choice: the katana.

Raphael and Donatello handled their borrowed weapons with both confidence and competence. Michelangelo, on the other hand, was neither. From his position across the room, Shadow could feel the tension and dread just pouring off the youngest turtle. Shadow waited a moment to see if either of Michelangelo's older brothers was going to go to his aid, but other than multiple pained looks in his direction, neither one moved. Finally, unable to stand by and watch the youngster suffer, Shadow made his way across the room.

Much as he had the night before with Raphael, Shadow let instinct guide him. Carefully he took the blades out of the young turtle's trembling hands and set them aside. He then reached out and took Michelangelo's hands in his own, interlacing their fingers, causing the other turtle's eyes to go wide with a combination of shock and recognition.

Praying it would work, Shadow reached through the bond for the troubled mind of his youngest masters. _Easy_, he soothed. _You're going to be okay._

_How…how are you doing this,_ Michelangelo asked back, surprise, fear, and delight battling for dominance in his response.

_Through the bond I forged with you as one of my new masters,_ Shadow replied. _I wasn't certain I could use it this way. I…I should have asked permission first._ This time it was his turn to have fear and dismay leak across the bond.

_Whoa, easy there,_ Michelangelo soothed. _No harm done. This is actually a good thing, 'cause it means we'll have a way to really communicate with you._

_Still, as a Drudge, it was not my place to initiate communication_, Shadow said. _I beg they forgiveness for my forwardness._

Marking the word "drudge" for later explanation, Michelangelo replied, _Forgive, if you'll answer a question for me. Why this?_ He shook their joined hands to demonstrate what he was referencing.

_You seemed to be in distress, _Shadow said with a healthy amount of hesitation.

_Not that, _Michelangelo corrected. _Why did you grab my hands this way?_

_I…I don't know,_ Shadow said. _ I just…it felt right, like it was what I needed to do. _He hastened to say, _If I have offended thee, I humbly apologize. I simply desired to help._

_My big brother use to do this,_ Michelangelo explained. _Whenever I'd get scared or need some encouragement or support he'd hold my hand like this._

_If I've brought up bad memories…_

_No,_ Michelangelo exclaimed. _I haven't felt this safe in a long time. Le…my brother disappeared a long time ago, after saving my life. That's actually why I was having such a hard time earlier. The twin katanas were his preferred weapons. Since his disappearance I can't touch them without getting almost physically ill._

_My heart grieves with thine,_ Shadow said formally. _It is a hard thing to lose battle-kin. I can't imagine the pain of losing a true sibling. But if I may, would it not be a fitting tribute to your fallen brother for you to master his chosen weapon. In do so, you could honor his memory._

_You know how to use them, don't you,_ Michelangelo asked. _You used the in that fight when you came to our rescue._

_Indeed, _Shadow said. _ Like your brother, I find them to be my…favorite weapons._

_Can you help me then?_

Once again, Shadow had the strange sensation of stepping back in time. This time he was a little younger, and his companion was an even younger Michelangelo.

_*"I just can't do it," the clearly upset Michelangelo said, a training staff held loosely in his hand._

"_It's okay, Mikey," child-Shadow said. "It just takes practice."_

"_Can you help me then," Mikey pleaded._

_Child-Shadow threaded his fingers through the younger turtle's. "Of course, little brother," he said. "I'd love to."_

"_Thanks, big brother. You're the best!"*_

Pushing his disorientation aside, Shadow struggled to regain control of his thoughts so he could properly respond to Michelangelo's request. He wasn't sure what made him say it, but his automatic response was, _of course. I'd love to._

As he moved to begin his instruction, Shadow couldn't get the image of Michelangelo's shocked and wonderstruck gaze out of his mind. It was like he'd given the younger turtle the best gift in the world; but it was a gift he hadn't been expecting. In some ways, it reminded him of how Raphael had looked at him the day before.

Shadow forced himself to put it aside and focus on what he was teaching and demonstrating. After all, hope was for others. Why torture himself with these strange, impossible dreams?

* * *

**So the section with little Mikey was another memory, just like Shadow had with Raphael. Hopefully that was clear. Everything else in italics was the thought-speech conversation with grown up Michelangelo.**


	9. Strange New World

**You would not believe how difficult this chapter was to write! I ended up totally rewriting. This was supposed to be the Shadow/Donatello chapter, but the turtles had other plans it turned out. There's a lot of dialogue in this chapter, but we got some hurt/comfort too! This is also the longest chapter I have written in a long time. So why are you reading this AN? Go read the chapter!**

* * *

Over the next several days Shadow found himself settling into a relatively comfortable routine, even if he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself outside morning and evening practice. After gaining explicit permission he continued his early training regime, after which he joined the others for their morning practice as well. The one surprise was when Raphael and Donatello both asked if he would be willing to provide some one-on-one instruction for them as well.

"You're a magnificent teacher," Raphael informed him when he approached Shadow about it. "I think Michelangelo learned more from you in one morning than he has over the past several years from our sensei. On top of that, you have a shell of a lot of skill; I think we could learn a lot from you."

At first, Shadow wasn't sure what to say. After all, if his masters wanted him to share his expertise, it was his duty to do so. But that wasn't how his new masters saw it.

"You have every right to say no," Raphael told him. "If it's not something you're comfortable with, we're not going to force you to do it."

_It would be my pleasure,_ Shadow replied, using the bond to answer. After his experience with Michelangelo, the quartet had done some testing and determined Shadow could communicate with all of them through the bond, though only Raphael didn't require physical contact.

Thus it was that all of the younger turtles started receiving solo instruction during one of their twice daily workouts. Shadow found only was he a natural teacher, but he truly enjoyed it. For the first time he could remember, Shadow felt good about himself as he discovered he had a value beyond what his master had ever bestowed him.

TMTNT

So here he was, several days into this new way of life. In all ways this new life seemed too good to be true. Shadow spent nearly every minute waiting for the other shoe to drop. Things couldn't go this smoothly forever; eventually his new masters would show their true colors. One afternoon sitting around the kitchen table, it seemed that moment had come; at least, it came across that way to the sensitive and vulnerable Shadow, as he was forced to expose the dark, brutal, and sordid reality of his former life.

As with most of these of these types of situations, the crisis spiraled out of control from such a small beginning. Michelangelo was making brownies, and used the last of both the milk and the eggs. Since both Raphael and Donatello had their hands full, he naturally handed the grocery list to Shadow and asked him to add the necessary items to it.

Shadow could only stare at the paper in front of him in panicked horror. Writing was forbidden to the trainees in his former master's world. They had been taught to speak and read dozens of languages from an equal number of worlds, but any trainee or drudge caught using or even attempting to use written communication was publicly flogged, followed by a three day minimum sentence on public display in the Position of Submission. Shadow had made that mistake only once; the pain and the trauma and the humiliation had been bad enough even now the thought of attempting to write nearly sent him into a panic attack.

Turning an alarmed gaze to Raphael, Shadow desperately sent, _I can't_.

"You can't what," Raphael asked distractedly as he continued to clean his weapons and gear.

_Write, _Shadow explained. _I __**can't**__ write._

That made Raphael look up sharply, drawing Donatello's attention from the laptop he was fiddling with. "What is he saying," he asked.

"He says he can't write," Raphael related.

Donatello whirled to stare at Shadow. The look of horrified disgust on the purple-masked turtle's face was fierce enough Shadow violently flinched back in instinctive response. Donatello didn't notice as he launched into a hostile diatribe. "This is preposterous! How can you not know how to write? You can read; I've seen you do it. How can you possibly know how to do one but not the other? This is lunacy!"

By this time, Shadow was all but cowering on the floor. Shame and humiliation, hot and sharp, poured through him, even as Donatello's revulsion and disgust lacerated his mind through the bond. The pain was severe enough he didn't hear Michelangelo snap at his older brother,

"Donatello, get it together, bro. You're hurting him!"

Shadow _was_ aware of Raphael, who had come to crouch in front of the distressed turtle.

_Shh,_ he sent as he rubbed a gentle hand over Shadow's trembling knee. _It's okay. You'll be alright. Just breathe._

Shadow lifted pained, tormented eyes to meet Raphael's sympathetic gaze. The agitated turtle was taken aback when he suddenly found himself enfolded in a loose hug. It was startling enough to jolt him out of his slightly hysterical mindset. He couldn't remember ever being held like this. Part of him felt like he should feel trapped, but all he felt was cared for. To Shadow's horror, involuntary tears began to trickle down his face. He fought the urge, but he finally gave in and buried his face in Raphael's shoulder. Even if it didn't last, if it proved ultimately to be false, he couldn't deny himself the comfort in this moment.

It seemed like the tears and emotions poured out of him forever, but Shadow was finally able to get himself back under control. Still, he remained huddled into the protection embrace that felt like the only thing that was preventing him from falling apart.

_You've had a hard week, haven't you_, Raphael asked softly as he stroked a gentle hand up and down the tattooed turtle's shell. _You were hurt fighting Bishop and protection us, and then you ended up abandoned here where life is nothing like you're familiar with and you've had to struggle just to stay afloat. Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't broken down before now._

_I don't understand any of this,_ Shadow confessed brokenly. _I'm an abandoned trainee, a Drudge, but you treat me like…like…_

_Like a person,_ Michelangelo suggested, suddenly making Shadow aware the youngest turtle was kneeling next to his brother, rubbing soft circles on the back of the older turtle's left hand.

_Yes,_ Shadow said. _My former master always treated me like a 'thing' he could use or abuse as he liked. I had no worth beyond what he allowed me to have. I was fortunate he saw me worthy enough to be accepted as a trainee; to be trained as a Shadow Hunter was very magnanimous of him. It was the highest honor a trainee could be given, yet ultimately I proved unworthy of it._

A sudden tight grip on his right shoulder brought Shadow's attention to a much calmer Donatello. _You were repeatedly beaten, mentally and emotionally abused, physically mutilated, and psychically enslaved against your will, and __**you're **__the unworthy one?_ Once again disgust filled his tone, but this time Shadow could properly sense the emotion was aimed at his abuser rather than at him.

_I have no real memories of my past,_ Shadow explained. _My master told me he rescued me from certain death, so I owe him my life. Rather than selling me, or make me a drudge right from the start, he trained me as a Shadow Hunter. It is an exacting discipline, but every mark I carry on my body represent mastery of a mental or physical element as outlined by its precepts. Only one other trainee came as close to mastering it as I have._

_Bishop_, Raphael said, realization dawning on him.

_The Traitor, yes,_ Shadow confirmed. _No one knows how, but he managed to somehow break his bond with his master and then he turned on him. He killed his master and several others as he fled. I was given the task of hunting him down and either eliminating him, or returning him for judgment; it was my sworn duty. When I chose to protect you three rather than pursue him, I broke my oath. As a consequence, my master severed our bond, making me a Drudge._

Somewhere in the middle of the discussion, the turtles had ended up huddled on the floor. Sensing Shadow's increasing distress at the topic under discussion, they made the silent decision to move to the living room where they could get more comfortable, while keeping their distraught new friend in the middle where they could all maintain contact with him.

Once they were settled, Raphael asked the question he and his brothers had been pondering for several days now. _What are these Drudges you keep mentioning?_

_Drudges are the lowest of the low,_ Shadow explained. _They are dishonored and discarded trainees. It is an agonizing, degrading life; many of them ultimately kill themselves to escape it._

_Why, _Michelangelo asked, genuinely wanting to know.

_When one is accepted as a trainee, your master forges a psychic bond with you. Through this psychic bond, he is not only connected to your mind and emotions, but your whole nervous system as well. He controls and filters all of the environmental stimulus you are subjected to. Any chance of doing so naturally is shattered by the bond. A Drudge doesn't have a master to provide that filter or control. Additionally, as a trainee, you get accustomed to that steady presence at the back of your mind. When it's gone, you're left with this deep, aching void in its place. At the same time, your mind and nervous system feel like they are being shredded by red hot knives, every minute of every day, since there is no one regulating the stimulus you are exposed to, and you are physically unable to do it yourself. The agony is beyond belief, and a Drudge is willing to do __**anything**__ to gain even a moment's relief. The degradation I have seen other drudges submit to just to secure even a temporary bond would sicken you if I told you._

_You really are dependent on us, aren't you, _Donatello said, thoughtfully. _Not only that, but we have the power and potential to hurt you badly._

_Yes, _Shadow said simply. _From the moment the bond tied me to each of you, my fate was set. By necessity the three of you became the center of my world because I am now and forever dependent on you._ There was a tangible shift in his demeanor and his tone became pointedly formal as he continued, _My body is thine to use; my mind is thine to command; my will is thine to direct. There is no me but what thou grandest me._

It was the same oath he'd been required to take when first accepted as a trainee. His master had made him recite it endless times while being punished to drive the message home. It had been his living reality for as long as he could remember. His new companions, however, had a far different reaction.

_No, _Raphael declared. _I told you before; you are no slave, and we are not your masters._

_If you reject me, then I am nothing, _Shadow replied in despair. _All I am good for is serving._

"You are not 'nothing,'" Raphael told him aloud, drawing the distraught turtle closer to his side, even as the others snuggled in closer. "You are a member of our family now; our brother."

_I know nothing of being part of a family, or a brother,_ Shadow told them.

"Then let us teach you."

* * *

**So, I was trying to establish just how little self-worth and self-esteem Shadow/Leo has. I don't know if it worked or not. Oh, and I haven't forgotten the whole "not able to write" thing. We'll take care of that next chapter, when we finally get the Donatello interaction and flashback.**


	10. No Stranger to Guilt

**Okay, I totally blame this monster chapter on my reviewer who asked for more angst and Leo-torture. I had the chapter all written and ready to be typed up when I got the review. Of course, my muse started turning flips, and I ended up completely re-writing the middle of this chapter. I couldn't find a place I liked to separate it, so you got the whole thing in one fell swoop.**

**T-17 age warning on this chapter. There's is some slight self-inflicted violence, though nothing graphic, and there is discussion of a mature topic; again nothing graphic. If you don't want to read it, skip the very short section between the **.**

* * *

As the brothers finally began to draw apart, Donatello grabbed Shadow by the hand and said, "The first lesson I think I need to demonstrate is that families apologize when they hurt one another. So I'm sorry for earlier. I never meant to hurt or scare you. I was just shocked, and a little outraged, you don't know how to write, when I know for certain you do know how to read. But that doesn't excuse the vitriol I subjected you to. And my outrage wasn't aimed at you, but at the bastard that purposefully handicapped you."

"What I don't get is why go to all the trouble to teach a slave to read, if you're not going to also teach 'em to write," Michelangelo commented from his position on Shadow's other side where he had his hand loosely interlaced with the mute turtle's.

_It was another way to control us, _Shadow said. _Reading and speaking a variety of languages was essential for us in performing our duties, especially if we were sent on missions off-world. Since our masters could just pull and information they might need or desire straight from our minds through the bond, it wasn't like we needed to provide written reports._

"It was also another way to keep you dependent on and chained to them," Donatello observed. "They gave you just enough skills to be useful to them, but not enough to allow you any independence or self-expression."

"So, just how many languages can you speak and read," Raphael asked from where he was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaning companionably against Shadow's leg.

The silent turtle did a quick tally in his head. _42, including 15 Terran dialects other than this one. The other 27 are comprised of various languages and sub-dialects from across the galaxy._

Donatello gave an appreciative whistle. "I'm impressed," he said. "That is some serious talent and brainpower. Something tells me I'd have a run for my money in the genius category if we were to test you."

_I had never given it much thought,_ Shadow said. _They came so naturally, and I didn't earn any punishment, so that was all that mattered to me._ He paused for a moment, gathering his courage, before hesitatingly asking, _Do you think you could teach me? To write, that is. I…I would like to break this chain of ignorance that is tying me down._

As look of sheer pleasure filled Donatello's face, Shadow once again experienced one of those bizarre time slips.

"_Good job, Donny," child-Shadow was saying, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze the back of his brother' neck._

_Donny leaned into the touch. "I only learned that kick because you help me. Sensei had to focus so much on Mikey that he didn't have time to help me."_

"_You'd have gotten it," child-Shadow said. "But I'm glad I could help. Now, there's something I was hoping you'd be able to help me with."_

"_Anything," Donny said._

"_It's these fractions sensei was working with us on yesterday," young Shadow confessed. "I feel dumb; I mean, even Mikey was getting it."_

"_You're not dumb, big brother," Donny defended. "You just learn differently that Mikey and I do. Besides, fractions _can_ be hard."_

"_Will you help me?"_

"_Of course I will," Donny replied. "Don't worry; we'll have you handling fractions like a pro in no time, Leo."_

Shadow jolted back to reality so abruptly upon hearing that name, he was only vaguely aware of Donatello agreeing to help him, and babbling about the different materials he was going to need. Hearing that name had unleashed such an eruption of emotions he felt like he was going to burst from just trying to contain them. Desperate to get alone, but not wanting to offend his new (or were they his old?) family, Shadow faked a yawn, that maybe wasn't as fake as he'd intended. It had been quite the day after all and, for him, it wasn't over yet. Thankfully, the others picked up on his not so subtle cues.

"You've had a rough afternoon," Donatello remarked. "You're probably wiped out. Why don't you go lie down for a little while; we'll come get you up for dinner."

Again following his instincts, Shadow reached out and gently squeezed the back of Donatello's neck. _Thank you,_ he sent before he hastily retreated to the privacy of his room. Never before had he been so grateful for a door to close the rest of the world out. He made sure it was closed securely before collapsing bonelessly on the bed.

Since the first time it had happened, he hadn't been sure what to make of these new "memories" that had been emerging over the past several days. At first, he'd thought they might be psychic impressions left by the younger turtles' missing brother, and he'd simply been picking up on them because the bond left his sensitive to such things. But then he'd heart that name: Leo. That simply, two syllable name had resonated with something so deep down inside him, not even the invasive present of the bond could touch it. He was Leo. The simple acknowledgement of it in his mind was at once alarming and achingly familiar. He felt like he'd been skinned alive, and then redressed in a new skin that wasn't quite comfortable, and didn't fit quite right, but that felt familiar nonetheless.

Suddenly besieged by an impulse he could name, much less deny, Shadow impulsively pushed the bed away from the wall to reveal the loose brick he knew was concealed there. Time and dust made it difficult, but he was eventually able to remove it. From the revealed cavity, the silent turtle pulled a handful of what were obviously a child's treasures. The frightening, and oddly comforting thing, was he could tell the story behind each one.

The last item Shadow pulled from the hole was an old, faded photograph of four young turtles. The colors were washed out from age, but Shadow could easily identify the red, orange, and purple-masked turtles. It was the blue-masked turtle smiling with carefree ease from between Michelangelo and Raphael that drew his attention, however. There could be no denying he was looking at a picture of himself as a child.

The picture fell from his nerveless hands, and he sat down hard on the floor as his legs refused to support him any longer. He didn't know what to think, simply because his brain refused _to_ think. When the mental spasm ceased, a deluge of questions flooded his mind. Did the others know who he was? If so, why hadn't they said anything? How had he ended up enslaved to his former master? Hadn't they wanted him? Knowing what they did of his past, would they still want him now?

Shadow forced his mind to stillness by sheer force of will. Tormenting himself like this wasn't going to get him any answers. On the other hand, he couldn't just start demanding answers from his new family either. If they didn't know, suddenly claiming to be their long lost brother would only alienate them. Shadow would rather slit his own throat than lose the welcome and rapport he was building here. If they did know, maybe they were waiting for some sign from him that _he_ knew.

_Or maybe the thought hasn't occurred to them,_ Shadow reasoned. _Or maybe they know, but they don't want to acknowledge it because the brother they knew and loved disappeared a long time ago, only to come back a pathetic former slave._

Round and round his thought went as he tried to figure out the enigma his life had become. At last, physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, Shadow crawled into bed. For now, he decided, he wouldn't say anything. He would take the secret to his grave if it meant losing the brothers he had just found.

TMNT

Shadow found his resolve to keep his secret both easier and harder to keep than he thought, mainly because he didn't have time to think about it much, though the guilt was ever present. Whereas before, he hadn't known how to occupy his time between morning and evening practice, not his time was spent getting to know his family.

By far, the strongest connection he felt was with Raphael. In the red-masked turtle he found the best friend he'd never had. He'd had battle-kin before, those he knew he could rely on to watch his back in a fight, but Raphael was first person he felt he could eventually trust. Shadow just felt safe around the other turtle, which made keeping his secret that much more difficult.

The growing connection between them was finally cemented one night when Shadow was driven from his bed by a guilt-induced, memory-laced nightmare.

It had started as most of his nightmares did, with his former master. Shadow was restrained in the Position of Submission, so he couldn't see his master, only hear him.

"_Thou hast been a very wicked trainee," he slaver hissed in his cold, reasonable tone. "First, thou wast declared oathbreaker, but now thou hast added the sin of lying to thy transgression."_

_I never lied to thee, master, Shadow pleaded._

"_But what about us," Raphael's angry voice cut in. "You've been lying to us." Razor sharp anger sliced through Shadow's mind._

"_We took you in and trusted you," Michelangelo added. "This is how you repay us?" Suffocating disappointment choked off the mute warrior's breath._

"_I was right to be repulsed by you," Donatello concluded as ice cold disgust seared through the choking turtle. "You're nothing but a foul liar, not even worth the air you contaminate."_

Jolted, breathless, from his rest, and unable to go back to sleep, Shadow headed down the practice room, which he'd been informed was called a dojo. After take just enough time to warm up to prevent serious injury, shadow launched into the most punishing routine he could devise. Heartsore and self-disgusted, he pushed himself to his limits. The hateful words from his dream-brothers were right. He'd been lying to them. For the past several weeks he'd been living with them under false pretenses. That he hadn't known initially wasn't an excuse, not to his mind. After all, his subconscious had been trying to tell him from day one. Donatello had been right to be disgusted with him; the genius turtle just hadn't realized the true reason why.

Ultimately, Shadow reached a point of complete physical exhaustion, and he collapsed to his hands and knees. But still the guilt lashed his mind.

_Worthless fool,_ Shadow castigated himself. _Treacherous drudge. What were you thinking, imagining you would ever be worth even a fraction of their value?_

All at once, Shadow knew what he had to do. Hadn't his master spent years teaching him? He had messed up, and there was only one recourse for that. Without hesitation, Shadow threw all of his will-power into super-heating his spirit marks, hotter than he had ever done before, until the agony searing his body matched the pain of guilt tear apart his mind.

Shadow was so enveloped in his self-punishment he never noticed the horrified Raphael watching from the shadows along the wall. While the silent turtle had been in the middle of his punishing work-out, Raphael and contented himself with watching; he could understand the demons that sometime required a physical outlet for release. When his brother finally collapsed to the floor, the red-masked turtle had figured it was safe to approach, until he saw the tell-tale red-white flare of the tattooed marks super-heating. Almost mindless with panic, Raphael had reacted without thinking, and used the bond to cut off his brother's connection to the marks. The color and heat immediately began to fade, leaving the sobbing Shadow face down on the floor of the dojo.

Disregarding the heat still emanating from the heartbroken turtle, Raphael gathered him into a tight hug, tucking Shadow's head beneath his chin.

"Why," he asked hoarsely. "Why would you do that to yourself?"

_Secrets,_ was the broken reply. _So many secrets. You'd hate me if you knew._

"I could never hate you," Raphael asserted fiercely. "You're family; my brother, and that's all I need to know. You can keep your secrets. I don't need to know them to know how much I care for you."

If anything, the sobs shaking Shadow grew in intensity. Raphael just held him until they finally subsided. Once Shadow had calmed down, Raphael pulled him to his feet and started herding him out of the now dark dojo.

"We've only got a few more hours before it's time to get up," he said. "Why don't you come bunk down with me until then?"

******At Shadow's nervous and slightly horrified look, Raphael just growled slight and shook his head. "I'm going to put this bluntly: I don't want to have sex with you." He put his hand on Shadow's heart. After a moment, the silent turtle returned the gesture. "You're my brother, and being brothers means giving and receiving physical affection and comfort when needed.

_I'm…I'm sorry,_ Shadow stuttered, embarrassed that his fatigue had caused him to so badly misread the situation, and possibly highly offend his brother. _I didn't mean to suggest…that is, I wasn't saying…_

"Calm down," Raphael commanded gently. "No harm done."

Too tired to censor himself, Shadow confessed, _I'm just not accustomed to physical contact that isn't meant to cause pain or humiliation. And while my former slaver never touched me 'that way,' there were many others who weren't so fortunate.******_

"Yeah, I can see how that could make you a little leery," Raphael said. But I swear, on my honor, that's not at all what I had in mind. I was thinking something a little more along the line of…cuddling, though I'll deny it if our brothers ever hear anything about this. And listen; never be afraid to tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable. It's your life, your mind, your body; _no one_ has the right to use you in any way you don't like. Anyone who tells you any different will have to answer to me. Also, absolutely no more self-punishment, you hear me? You get to hurting that bad, you come to me. We'll figure it out together."

Shadow considered his brother's words for several minutes. Finally he asked, _Is cuddling anything like hugging?_ Hugging was a habit he had definitely become addicted to.

"It's kind of like a prolonged hug," Raphael said.

_Then I think I'd like to try this…cuddling._

The next morning, Shadow knew two things for certain. One, cuddling beat out simple hugging any day of the week. Two, Raphael had gained what no one else ever had: his utter and complete loyalty. He was still working on trust, but Shadow knew he would willingly lay down his life to protect this brother who shown him the first unconditional love he'd ever known.

* * *

**So, I hope everyone enjoyed the small Leo-Donny moment, even if it did get overshadowed by Raphael here at the end. I have a good portion of the next chapter written; I just have to get it finished and typed. Hopefully I'll have it posted by Sunday.**


	11. Strange Day

**So we finally get to see a little more Leo coming out in this chapter. After all, would you expect anything less when his family is threatened? You'll also get more just a little more of the story about the day Leo disappeared, and we get some Mikey-Leo fluff. Who doesn't enjoy that?**

* * *

It took time, but with Raphael's steady support bolstering him, Shadow was able to begin shedding the enslaved mindset beaten into him by years of abuse. Of course, the other turtles played their parts in the process as well. If Donatello was helping to free his mind from the shackles of enforced ignorance, and Raphael was responsible for helping Shadow learn he was worthy of receiving love and affection, then Michelangelo was teaching him how to give it.

Ever since learning about just how horrific Shadow's past life had been, the youngest turtle had been sticking close. At first, Shadow thought Michelangelo was doing so for his, Shadow's, benefit, until Raphael mentioned one evening it had been a long time since he'd seen his baby brother that at ease.

"He doesn't talk about it, and he's gotten really good at hiding it, but Michelangelo was extremely traumatized by what happened to our older brother," Raphael told Shadow. "You make him feel safe."

_Rather like you do for me, _Shadow said.

"Pretty much," Raphael confirmed, blushing only slightly. "The thing is, I don't think he's felt this secure since the accident that took our brother."

Being said brother, Shadow desperately wanted to ask just what had happened, since he had no clear memories of the incident, but he didn't want to explain his curiosity, or dredge up painful memories. So, he kept silent. Still, it didn't stop his burgeoning protective instincts from flaring every time he saw the flicker of fear or panic in his little brother's eyes. He'd spent too many years living like that himself to stomach seeing it in Michelangelo's innocent gaze.

Fate, it seemed, had determined the past had been a mystery long enough, and she decided to step in and open the way for Shadow to get his answers, and for Michelangelo to finally work through the worst of his trauma.

The family was taking a jog through the sewers one evening, helping Shadow get familiar with the layout, when they hit a section that was extra wet from a recent rainfall. The excess water, combined with the slimy mold and mildew already covering the walk, made footing tricky and slippery. More than one of the turtles had slipped already, causing them to severely slow their pace. It was Michelangelo, however, who had the misfortune to lose his balance completely, and he ended up in the water.

The water level was elevated, and it was moving at a brisk pace, but nothing the turtle shouldn't have been able to deal with; except, when the orange-masked turtle hit the water, he began to panic. What was worse, Raphael and Donatello both froze as well. Shadow took this all in with only a glance, and suddenly it was like Shadow became someone else; someone who knew exactly what to do in this situation.

Dumping the excess weight of his weapons and gear on the ground, Shadow dove smoothly into the water, quickly making his way to the floundering Michelangelo. Unable to get a firm hold on the flailing turtle, Shadow applied a brief touch to several pressure points, bringing the frantic motion to an end. After that, it didn't take much to maneuver the younger turtle into the proper position to tow him to the walk paralleling the water where, by this time, Raphael and Donatello had pulled themselves together enough to help life the limp Michelangelo out of the water. Shadow _was_ a little startled by the pair's tight, almost frantic, grip on him as they assisted him out as well. Shrugging it off, Shadow turned to Michelangelo, where a few deft touches released him from his temporary paralysis. The younger turtle immediately began to shake as reaction set in. A cursory glance revealed Donatello and Raphael weren't in much better condition.

Acting on knowledge that was deeper and more primal that mere instinct, welling up from this new awareness that had been direction Shadow's actions since the crisis began, the former slave began giving orders.

_Raphael_, he called to the action oriented turtle, knowing he would deal best with being given something physical to do. _Give us a minute, and then lead us home. Quickest route you can think of, but let's try and keep it as dry as possible._ Raphael involuntarily nodded, reacting to the order on instinct.

A firm hand on Donatello's arm connected him to the planner of the family, who knew simply knew would function better with something to keep his mind focused. _Donatello, you'll need to be figuring out what we need to do when we get home. Let's see what we can do to minimalize the trauma from this as much as possible_, Shadow said. He was relieved to see a little more focus in the genius's eyes as he began to do just that.

That finally left Michelangelo. Shadow simply grabbed the younger turtle by the hand, automatically interlacing their fingers, and pulled him to his feet. Allowing him to stick close, while maintaining the grip on Michelangelo's hand, they set off after Raphael.

_Come on little brother, _he said softly. _Let's get home._

TMNT

Even upon arriving back at the Lair, Shadow still found himself maintaining the mantle of leadership he'd assumed since the incident started. He ordered Michelangelo to go take a warm shower, knowing the younger turtle needed it after the fall in the cold water. Raphael was directed to make a pot of tea, while Donatello was commissioned to collect several blankets and pile them on the couch, where the two younger turtles were settled once the tea was ready. Once Michelangelo was out of the shower, he too was bundled up, and he and Shadow joined the other huddled on the couch. Shadow once again found himself in the middle of the group, with Donatello and Michelangelo on either side of him so he could maintain in physical contact.

_Okay,_ he said when everyone was settled. _Someone care to explain what happened today? You all freaked out, almost turning this minor accident into a tragedy._

Raphael being Raphael, and scared to boot, replied in true Raphael-ian fashion. "Yeah, well, who dies and made you fearless leader, huh?"

Just like that, the bubble burst, and immediately it was Shadow's turn to start quaking as his behavior of the past two hours caught up to him. He instantly began blabbering apologies, even as he seemed to deflate and fold in on himself. This time, it was Donatello's turn to come to the rescue.

_That's enough,_ he told Shadow firmly, breaking through the other turtle's remorseful prattle. _You did well out there. If not for your intercession, Michelangelo very easily could have drowned. Just ignore Raphael; he gets snippy when he gets scared._

_Yeah, sorry about that,_ said turtle said rather sheepishly. _My mouth sometimes starts running before I engage my brain._

Shadow knew there was something seriously amiss when Michelangelo didn't take the clear opening to razz the older turtle. Pulling the younger turtle closer, Shadow asked again, _So what happened out there? This is a rather dangerous secret to keep from someone who is responsible for watching your back._

_You're right, of course, but it's a topic we find very difficult to talk about; Michelangelo in particular_, Donatello told him. _Our sensei discouraged us from discussing it, even amongst ourselves. He said we shouldn't dwell on it._

_No offense to your sensei, but that doesn't make much sense,_ Shadow said with a bluntness that was heartening to hear. _You've demonstrated to me the healing power of talking about painful events. However, I don't mean to pry, and if you'd rather not…_

_It's how our big brother disappeared, _Michelangelo abruptly declared. _We'd been out playing in the sewer, like we'd done a million times before, when the sewer unexpectedly flooded. We all knew how dangerous that could be, so we started for home. Only, I tripped and ended up in the water. It was moving too fast, and I'd gotten disoriented when I fell in, so I couldn't tell up from down. Before I could panic, though, I felt hands pulling me to the surface. My big brother Leo had jumped in after me, although he was only eight, and he somehow got me to the side. Raphael and Donatello had just pulled me out, and were reaching to help Leo, when he slipped back into the water and disappeared. Just like that, he was gone, and it was all my fault._

Shadow wrapped him in a tight embrace as sobs tore through him. Raphael and Donatello quietly stepped away, recognizing this was something very personal for their brother, and he didn't need an audience to witness as he laid bare his soul. Their turn would come later; right now, Shadow was doing what no one else had been able to in the past ten years.

_I guess today was as close to a living nightmare as you could get,_ Shadow observed once Michelangelo had calmed a bit.

_I…I couldn't even think, much less move,_ the younger turtle murmured. _It was just like last time. I…I can't do this anymore._

_Then don't,_ Shadow said, that unexpected tone of authority back in his voice. _You've suffered from this nightmare long enough, don't you think?_

"How do I stop it," the miserable turtle whispered.

_Close your eyes,_ Shadow instructed. _Now, this might be a bit painful, but you need to think about what happened that day. Remember the sounds of the water and your brothers, the smell of the wet sewer, the feel of the slippery ground beneath your feet._

Michelangelo whimpered slightly, but gamely did as he was told. Shadow continued to speak.

_Now, you've fallen into the water. Take a moment to acknowledge the fear you felt. If you don't face it, you can't master it. You're disoriented, dizzy. Now, feel the hands coming to your rescue. Soak up the relief and knowledge you are safe. You're being pulled from the water; you can see and feel your brothers there, helping you. The next part is the most important, Mikey. Ignore what happened ten years ago; it doesn't matter anymore, because today everyone made it out safely. Your family is safe and whole again, if a little tattered around the edges. We made it home. That's what you need to remember the next time these memories try to take over. Just remind yourself, we all made it home._

By this time, Michelangelo was nearly asleep, every ounce of tension faded from his body. Whisper soft, the youngest turtle acknowledged through the bond what his heart had recognized, even if his conscious mind wasn't quite ready to accept it.

_Love you, Leo. Glad you're home._

Certain the younger turtle was too out of it to remember this exchange, Leo/Shadow quietly replied, _I love you too, baby brother._

* * *

**So, we have Leo/Shadow using his brother's nickname for the first time. That is significant. I also gave you another vague clue about a future element of the story; see if you can figure out what it was. The question for everyone now is: will Mikey remember what happened here, or is Leo/Shadow's secret still safe? You'll just have to wait and see.**


	12. The Road Grows Stranger

**So, there's not much of Shadow in this chapter at all, but his brothers make some important decisions. There is also some set up for things that are going to happen in future chapters. Guess we'll have to see how it all plays out.**

* * *

Raphael and Donatello watched as Shadow bundled up the sleeping Michelangelo and headed upstairs. Something told the red-masked turtle Shadow was going to be putting his new cuddling skills into practice to help his young charge tonight. And since Shadow had Michelangelo well in hand, it fell on him to take care of Donatello. His brainy brother hadn't said anything, and fortunately their new brother didn't know him well enough yet to pick up on it, but Raphael could tell something had been on his mind for a while now. He was trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject, when Donatello took matters into his own hands.

"Raphael, do you remember our discussion the morning after we brought Shadow home, about who you said he was?"

"Not likely to forget it," Raphael said. "You shot me down pretty thoroughly."

"Will, I'm giving you permission to say 'I told you so,' because I think I've changed my mind," Donatello told him.

Raphael just settled a little further back in his chair and asked, "What made you change your mind?"

Donatello sighed heavily. "That's just it," he said. "I have no empirical proof, just a few anecdotal incidents, and the gut feeling that he's really Leo. I mean, you saw him today. And it wasn't just him diving into the water after Michelangelo; it was the way he took charge and looked after all of us when it was clear we weren't thinking straight. Shell, I almost called him Leo once or twice."

"Yeah, if I hadn't been sure before, today would have clenched it for me, too," Raphael admitted. "I mean, you caught my 'fearless leader' slip."

"Fortunately Michelangelo was too out of it to notice, and Shadow was too hurt and shocked to pay too much attention," Donatello commented.

"Still, I appreciate you covering for me, both in regards to the comment itself, and Shadow's response to it," Raphael said. "Last thing I want to do is drive him away because of my hot head."

"You're welcome," Donatello replied. "Now, we need to figure out what we're going to do about this whole Leo/Shadow thing."

"What are you talking about," Raphael asked. "I'm not sure what there is _to_ do, other than leave it alone and let it work itself out. We could do a lot of harm pushing Leo to remember before he's ready, not to mention we still have Michelangelo to deal with. We have no idea how he's going to react."

"And what if Shadow doesn't start remembering on his own," Donatello argued.

"I think he already has. And if not, we just get to know our new brother," Raphael growled. No one wants Leo back more than me. He was your big brother, but he was my twin! With him gone, it's been like I've been unable to breath for the last ten years. I haven't been missing just a brother, but the other half of my heart and soul. Master Splinter always said we were two halves of the same whole, so I've been living only half a life since we lost him."

Driven to his feet by the outpouring of emotions, Raphael had started pacing around the small kitchen. He was brought to a standstill by Donatello's quiet, "And then Shadow showed up."

"And then Shadow showed up," Raphael agreed as he dropped heavily back into his chair. "I think I knew on a subconscious level who he was, even before I found that scar on his ankle, because I felt whole for the first time in ten years. Donatello, I can't lose him again. Leo or Shadow, I don't care which; I'm not going to risk losing him over this."

"Okay," Donatello conceded softly. "We'll do it your way. I don't want to lose him either."

Raphael ran a weary hand over his face and cursed under his breath. "You had something in mind when you started this conversation. If it's something that will help Leo come back, we might as well discuss it. He's your brother too, after all."

"Well, working with Shadow on learning, or re-learning, how to write made me think. Remember how Leo used to sketch whenever he'd get stressed, or he just needed an outlet for his emotions."

"Sure," Raphael said. "I managed to save a couple of his pieces when Father stripped all reminders of him from the Lair."

"Me too," Donatello confided. "Anyway, I was thinking or suggesting to Shadow that he give it a try. It has a practical application, in that it would help strengthen his fine motor control, and give him another way to express himself and explore his individuality. I imagine it must get frustrating to be so limited in how and to whom he can express himself."

"I think it's worth a try," Raphael said. "And maybe we can come up with some other way to all him to communicate with you and Mikey."

Donatello abruptly went completely still.

"What? Are you okay," Raphael asked in concern.

"You…you just called him Mikey instead of Michelangelo," Donatello whispered. "You, we, haven't used our nicknames since we lost Leo."

"I don't know about you, but until now, I couldn't," Raphael said. "Raph, and I think Mikey and Donny, died when Leo did. And now that he's back…"

"It's like a rebirth," Donatello agreed. "We're not completely there yet, and we'll probably face a few more birthing pains, but I think we'll get there."

TMNT

The next morning everyone was glad it was Sunday, because that meant no practice, though Shadow did have his writing lesson with Donatello. He was determined to learn, and so the genius turtle agreed to do seven days a week. Today that meant he could also introduce the idea of sketching without it seeming odd.

While Donatello and Shadow were enmeshed in their lesson at the kitchen table, Raphael took the chance to check on his little brother.

"How are you feeling this morning," he asked Michelangelo when the youngest turtle settled on the couch next to him.

"Better," Michelangelo said. "No nightmares. Actually, that was the best night's sleep I've had in a very long time. I'm a bit surprised, given what happened yesterday."

"You want to talk about it," Raphael asked. "Yesterday, I mean. Or even what occurred ten years ago. Shadow was right; we only hurt ourselves by not talking about it all these years."

"Thanks," Michelangelo said sincerely. "I'm good. Shadow really helped, and I think I'm finally through the worst of it. But what about you? Do you need to talk?"

Raphael looked toward the kitchen where the writing lesson was in progress. "Thanks," he said with a grin, "but I think I'll follow your lead and give our new brother a chance to work his magic."

The pair sat in comfortable silence for a long moment. The quiet was finally broken when Michelangelo said, "There's something I want to ask you, and I need you to listen, okay?" He paused before saying, "Do you think Shadow could be Leo?"

Raphael felt his breath catch in his throat. He and Donatello had been worried about how their little brother would respond when he found out, and here he'd come to the conclusion on his own!

Trying to play it cool, Raphael calmly asked, "What makes you think he is?"

"You didn't deny it, so you've been thinking it too," Michelangelo concluded exultantly. "And it's been several things that got me to thinking about it. Little things, like how he moves around you. You and Leo always moved like you instinctively knew where the other was, and where he was going to be. Maybe it was part of being twins. When I was little, though, I used to think it was one of your superpowers. Donny and I might get in each other's way, but you two never did. You and Shadow do the same thing now. There's also the hand thing. Leo's the only one who ever held my hand like that; he also did the neck-squeeze thing with Donatello. Leo never did that with anyone else."

"Those are all good points," Raphael started to say, but his brother cut him off.

"That's not what convinced me, though."

"Okay, I'll bite," Raphael said. "What finally convinced you he is Leo?"

"Last night, after he talked me through the trauma of what happened, and kinda-sorta used a little hypno-therapy to help me deal with it, I was almost asleep. You know how I get at that point; my mouth runs away from my brain, and I'll say whatever I'm thinking."

"Yeah," Raphael drawled, this his heart was pounding wildly in his chest. This was going to be important; he could feel it.

"So, I said to him 'Love you, Leo,' and something about being glad he is back," Michelangelo said. "The thing is, he didn't deny, not even emotionally. He just said 'I love you too, baby brother.'"

"You were half-asleep," Raphael pointed out, although he wanted to turn cartwheels. Leo was starting to emerge from wherever he'd been hidden by what had been done to him. "Are you sure you didn't dream it?"

"I don't have good dreams; I have nightmares," Michelangelo retorted. "I'm certain it happened."

That was a relief to Raphael, because it meant his little brother truly was on his way to being healed. It also meant he could fill him in on what he and Donatello were thinking. "Then you'll be pleased to learn Donatello and I have come to the same conclusion," he said. "For very similar reasons."

"So are we gonna ask him about it," Michelangelo asked. "I mean, if he knows he's our brother, why hasn't he said anything?"

"I don't think he's known for very long," Raphael said. "And I'm not sure how much he actually remembers."

"We could tell him," Michelangelo suggested.

"And maybe really harm him in the process," Raphael countered. "Believe me; no one wants Leo back worse than I do. But I will live with Shadow in his place if that's what I have to do to keep him safe."

"But there's got to be _something_ we can do," Michelangelo said plaintively.

"I think it's time we lifted Sensei's ban on talking about Leo," Raphael said. "We may not be able to directly confront Shadow about who he is or what he knows, but maybe we can encourage him and jog his memory by sharing ours. Donatello is also suggesting Shadow try his hand at sketching; maybe that will loosen things up a bit as well."

Again, silence fell between the two, and again it was Michelangelo who broke it.

"Why do you think Sensei tried so hard to get rid of any trace of Leo? He emptied his room, locked away all of his stuff, and refused to say his name. He'd get so upset anytime any of us mentioned Leo; it just became habit not to say anything."

"I don't know," Raphael admitted. "It bothered me when I was little, and as I got older I just figured it was his way of grieving."

"Wonder how he's going to react when he finds out Leo is back," Michelangelo said.

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Raphael said. "After all, sons don't return from the dead every day. Why wouldn't he be happy to have Leo back?"

* * *

**So, I'm trying to figure out Splinter's role in this whole thing. I can't decide whether to make him a good guy, a bad guy, or just someone who made a stupid mistake. Hopefully by the time he finally makes his appearance I'll have figured it out.**


	13. Stranger No Longer

**This chapter was a pain and a half to get written. I had it partially done when I decided I didn't like what was going on, so I threw the whole thing out and started from scratch. Note for this chapter: you will find I go back and forth between referring to Leo as Shadow and Leo; this is done on purpose. Depending on which name is used, that's the mindset behind what is taking place. Leo and Shadow are trying to find a balance, so he goes back and forth as to which part of his personality is in the forefront. Second note: Donatello may seem a little Ooc; again, this is done on purpose. We'll get more into reactions next chapter, but remember, Donny has had the hardest time accepting Shadow as Leo from the beginning.**

* * *

Shadow was a bit bewildered as he looked through the armful of art supplied Donatello had handed over to him during their last writing lesson.

"Don't get me wrong," the genius turtle had told him after giving him the assortment of pencils, erasers, and pads of paper. "You're making great progress. This is just a way to help strengthen your fine motor control. Besides, writing is more than simply communication; it is more importantly a method of self-expression. By sketching, you can express things words aren't enough to describe. Just give it a try. Draw whatever catches your attention, and hopefully you'll be able to start learning a little more about who you are now."

So here he was, idly perusing the items. He wasn't quite sure just what to make of them, until he picked up the charcoal pencil. It seemed to fit his hand the way his swords did. _This_ was something he knew. As he had learned to do when those little seeds of memory began to pop up, Shadow just went with the flow. Grabbing the sketch pad, he began to draw. The lines were a bit clumsy, and the shading was definitely off, but he managed to produce a reasonable likeness of Donatello wearing the same earnest, intent expression on his face he'd had when he handed over the art supplies just a short while before.

Just like that, the sketch pad became Shadow's permanent companion. If he wasn't training or playing with his brothers then the mute turtle was sure to be found drawing. From the start, certain ground rules were established regarding his work. The blue notebook contained the drawings Shadow didn't mind his brothers seeing. These were mostly pictures of his brothers, with a few images drawn from the rare lighter moments during his time as a trainee. One of his personal favorites was a sketch of the exotic, blue-skinned female trainee Blade-song right after the Slugian ambassador snuck a kiss during one of the infrequent state dinners they'd had to attend, serving both as bodyguards and eye-candy. At the same time, the feelings evoked by the image were bittersweet, as Blade-song had been killed by the Traitor immediately preceding Shadow's assignment to deal with him.

On the other hand, Shadow's brothers knew the drawing in the black notebook were totally off limits. This was where he kept the more personal drawings. The darker side of his life as a slave was revealed in some of the images. Others were only partial images, most of which didn't make sense, but had the feel of fractional pieces of memory. It was the final set of images, however, that Shadow wasn't ready for his brother to see; the images of his childhood memories when he was Leonardo rather than Shadow. Since he started sketching, the memories had been coming more often and more intensely, generally in the form of vivid dreams or nightmares.

For the past six weeks, he'd had the same nightmare, which had grown a little clearer each time it occurred. At first, he'd thought they were just remnants of The Accident when he'd pulled Michelangelo from the water, but it quickly became clear he was remembering something quite a bit different. For the first several nights, all he'd seen were images of darkness and churning water. He'd wake up choking and gagging, like he'd been underwater too long.

As the days turned into weeks, Shadow began to see more and more, both in the nightmare and from his early years with his brothers. This was in part, he suspected, due to his brothers being more open about sharing their memories of Leonardo. But there was also the fact that the "Leo" part of his consciousness was increasingly asserting itself. He'd never quite be the person his brothers remembered; there could be no ignoring the damage done to him during his slave years. Shadow was too ingrained in him now, and to a certain extent would always influence his responses and approaches to new situations and people. To Leo's way of thinking, that wasn't such a bad thing, since Shadow brought an increased amount of humility and compassion to his emerging leadership style, taking him from being a good leader, to potentially being a great one.

Fittingly enough, Leo's full re-birth took place on a rather dark and stormy night. While the Lair may have been insulated from the worst of the thunder, there was no avoiding the flickering lights caused by the power fluctuations stemming from the numerous lightning strikes. After a candle-lit evening practice, the turtles decided to call it a night, since the fluctuating power made pretty much everything else impossible. Not only that, but a good bit of their belongings had been moved upstairs on the off-chance the sewers severely over-flooded; according to Donatello, it _had_ happened once or twice before, they would rather be safe than sorry. With little other recourse, the turtles headed off to their separate rooms for the night.

For reasons he couldn't explain, Leo was having a difficult time getting settled. He had the oddest sense of anticipation that he just couldn't shake, like something important was about to happen. Finally, he was able to clear his mind enough to fall into an uneasy sleep. From the start, dream after dream invaded his mind until, right before dawn, the nightmare hit.

_He saw Mikey hit the water and go under. It took almost no thought to dump his gear and go in after him. Fortunately, Mikey remembered their water rescue training, and didn't fight him as he towed his younger brother to the edge. The water was moving very fast, and it was a little hard to hold onto his brother and the ladder, but fortunately Raph and Donny were there to help pull Mikey out. He was in the process of climbing out, too, when something grabbed his ankle and yanked him back into the water._

_Everything went a bit fuzzy as a piece of debris cracked him soundly on the temple. He was just aware enough to stop himself from drowning, but that was about it. Ultimately, he was able to make his way to the edge of the walkway and pull himself out, but he could make it no further._

_He wasn't sure how long he lay there, but the next thing he was aware of was the gray figure that silently, almost callously, scoops him up and started off down the sewer. The dream shifted once more, and eventually he hears the sounds of raised voices arguing in the background._

Usually this is as far as the dream went, and Leo would jerk awake, heart pounding with an unexplainable mix of fear, anger, and hurt. Tonight's dream was a little different, however.

_As before, never saw the speakers, only heard their voices. The words were unintelligible, and he couldn't understand what they were saying until one of the voices, a voice Leo was certain he should recognize, said, "Then he's yours."_

Horrified and sobbing, Leo sat straight up in bed. He couldn't figure out why his throat felt like it was on fire, until he realized it was himself he could hear screaming in the background. The sound of his door crashing open, had him looking up, and diving at Raphael, ignoring the flutter of paper as the notebook previously on the end of his bed scattered its content all over the room. All he had interest in was gaining the safety and comfort of his twin's embrace. Once there, he held on for all he was worth, sobbing brokenly into Raphael's plastron.

"What's going on," asked Donatello, who had appeared just steps behind his older brother.

"Is he okay," added Michelangelo, who had similarly arrived on Donatello's heels.

"I don't know," the bewildered Raphael said as he continued to hold his sobbing sibling tightly. "I head the screaming and came running. He practically met me at the door, and latched on before I could say anything."

Observing how upset Shadow obviously was, Donatello suggested, "Why don't you take him downstairs and see if you can get him calmed down. Michelangelo and I will put things to rights here and then come join you. Maybe by then he'll be able to explain what happened."

It took a little doing, but Raphael finally to his distraught brother down the stairs and settled on the floor of the dojo. Arranging the pile of blanket to make a comfortable nest was a task made all the more difficult by the fact that he couldn't get more than an arm's length away without Shadow making a shell-raising keening sound that only ceased once he was in physical contact once again. Finally, Raphael got everything settled, with Shadow tucked up under his chin, arms tucked protectively between them.

"He let them have me," Leo suddenly whispered, and Raphael was both too busy trying to figure out who "he" was and too startled by the sudden sound to immediately realize the formerly mute turtle was actually speaking to him.

"Wait, you…he…what," he spluttered, earning a weak chuckle from the turtle tucked up against him.

"Eloquent as ever, Raph," Leo teased hoarsely.

"You're talking," Raphael exclaimed. "And who's this 'he' you're talking about?"

Before Leo had the chance to respond, Donatello and Michelangelo appeared; Michelangelo dropped a stack of papers on the floor in front of the reclining pair. "I think you've got a few more questions than that to answer, don't you _Leo_," Donatello declared pointedly. "Starting with how long you've known who you are, and were you ever going to tell us?"

"Who, bro, what's this all about," Raphael asked as he Leo sat up.

"Our brother's little head dive out of bed earlier made quite a mess of these papers," Donatello replied. "Imagine our surprise as we're straightening them up when we find drawing after drawing of instances from our childhood. There's only one person who could have known anything about those times, and I think we deserve to know why he's been keeping this from us."

Harsh though it may have been, Donatello was banking on Shadow's reflexive tendency to shy away from confrontations as a means of getting the answers to his questions. What he wasn't expecting was for _Leo_ to meet him head on.

"You deserve," Leo retorted sardonically. "You think you deserve some answers? Well let me put things into perspective for you before you start declaring you 'deserve' things. You spent ten years believing I was dead; I spent ten years often whishing I was. You had a family to support and sustain you; I was owned by a monster that I was never sure from one moment to the next if he was going to hurt me or just ignore me. You saw what I was like when you brought me home. If you had beaten me on a daily basis I would have accepted it as no more than I deserved. I'm not trying to be bitter, but put yourself in my place. Imagine the internal conflict I experienced as the beaten, broken slave side of me suddenly had to try and reconcile with the loved, confident older brother I use to be. I saw who I had been forced to become and who I should have been, and I somehow had to make peace with both of them, and figure out who I was becoming."

"Why didn't you ask for help," Michelangelo asked sincerely.

"Two reasons," Leo explained. "First, I was just plain scared, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. It didn't think you would want me anymore if you found out the pathetic, pitiful slave you'd rescued and accepted into your home was actually your brother. In my mind, it was one thing for you to extend that kind of compassion to a stranger, but I was afraid you'd get disgusted and reject me if you knew it was your brother who had been so badly abased and abused. Secondly, this was something I really needed to work out for myself. I spent too long having my identity defined by someone else. For my own good, _I_ had to decide who I was going to be."

Raphael, who had loosened, but never fully released, his grip on Leo so his older brother could turn to face his younger brothers squeezed him arm encouragingly.

"Hearing you put it that way, I guess I can understand your reasoning," he said. He pulled Leo back in close. "And don't let Donatello's attitude fool you; we don't have any room to point fingers. We've been fairly confident of your identity for a while now, and we didn't say anything either. Partly because we didn't want to scare you off if you weren't ready to know, and partly to protect ourselves from the, admittedly slight, off chance we were wrong."

"Guess we were all afraid of getting hurt, huh," Leo said as he leaned comfortably against his twin. Raph gave him a quick squeeze before releasing him. Leo stood up and faced his younger brothers. Mikey didn't hesitate; he threw himself at his oldest brother and held on like Leo was going to disappear if he let go. Completely unselfconsciously, Leo dropped a chaste kiss on his baby brother's head before disengaging.

Turning to Donatello he said, "A very smart turtle one told me that families apologize when they hurt one another and, unintentional or not, my actions hurt you. So, Donny, I'm sorry."

That was all it took. With tears in his eyes, Donny blindly stepped into his big brother's arms.

"Forgiven, if you'll forgive me," he whispered. "And Leo, as long as you come home to us, you'll always be forgiven."

* * *

**So, Leo can talk now; we'll find out a possibility for why, and why he was mute before, next chapter. We'll also learn a little more about Leo's nightmare. Any guesses who "he" might be? And why would he be giving Leo up? I've finally figure it all out, so it will be interesting to see if any of you get close. Oh, and we might finally see April and Casey next chapter.**


	14. Truth is Always Strange

**So, I had every intention of introducing April and Casey this chapter. I even had the chapter written introducing them. However, Leo informed me he had been locked up in the Lair for too long, and he was getting cabin fever. So, April and Casey next chapter, and a cameo from another familiar face. We'll see where that leads in the future. P.S.-Sorry it took so long to get this out. Between the re-write and not feeling my best this week, it took me longer than I planned.**

* * *

Knowing his brothers needed some time to process the changes that had taken place in the family, Leo tried to encourage them to head back to bed for a little while. When that proposition was rejected out of hand, Leo just shrugged philosophically before suggesting that if they weren't going to go back to bed, then they might as well get in a light work out before setting the Lair back to rights. The others accepted the proposal with equanimity, and quick work was made of cleaning up the dojo.

After practice, the four turtles set about returning the downstairs to its proper arrangement. They hadn't noticed in the tumult of earlier that morning, but there had been some very minor flooding during the night. Fortunately, it wasn't enough to cause any damage, and it was quickly cleaned up. The quartet finally retired to the kitchen, where Raph volunteered to make French toast for breakfast.

As they settled in to eat, Leo couldn't help grinning as Raph and Mikey sat as close as they could without getting in each other's way. Throughout the morning, he'd found it interesting to observe how his brothers interacted with him now that the truth had been revealed. Mikey had barely left his side. Leo realized he was going to need to sit down and talk with him about it sometime in the future. Raph didn't stick so close, but he did stay within eyesight. He also kept finding various, seemingly innocuous, reasons to make physical contact with his older brother. Donatello, on the other hand, kept as far away as he could and still remain in the same room. _He_, Leo knew, was going to need a talking to as soon as Leo could pin him down. For now, he was just planning on enjoying breakfast with his brothers.

The food was, of course, delicious, and the brothers all ate until they were stuffed. Feeling more relaxed and at ease now that their stomachs were full, the turtles settled into a calmer, more rational discussion of that morning's rather chaotic events.

"I was dreaming about what happened that day," Leo told his brothers. "I remember helping Mikey, and beginning to climb out, when something grabbed my ankle and pulled me back into the water, where some piece of debris smacked me on the head. I was lucky I didn't drown, actually."

"Wait," Raph protested. "You got _pulled_ back in? We always though you slipped."

"Unfortunately not," Leo said. "And looking back at it through Shadow's eyes, I now recognize the creature as a drone. Drones were basically mindless extensions of our masters' will. They are no good for combat, but they are wicked fast and incredibly strong; excellent for fetching new and unwilling slaves, or sending messages in potentially dangerous situations. The master piloting the drone can speak through it should he, or she, need to communicate. Actually, that would explain the sounds of arguing I overheard.

"Who was arguing?" "What did they say?" Raph and Mikey spoke up simultaneously.

"I don't know," Leo confessed. "In the dream I could only hear the raised voices; I couldn't make out what they were saying; at least, not until the very end." He swallowed hard. "I didn't recognize the speaker, but I felt like I should. I just knew when he said 'Then he's yours' that I felt the most profound sense of betrayal and rejection I've ever known."

A cacophony of sound erupted around the table as the brothers launched into a noisy discussion of who the mystery "he" was from Leo's dream. At least, Raph and Mikey discussed it; Donatello remained oddly quiet, behavior that definitely caught Shadow's attention. Unsettled and self-conscious because of his genius brother's unusual reticence, the oldest turtle hesitantly reached out to lay a soft hand on his younger brother's arm. For his own peace of mind he had to get to the bottom of Donatello's disconcerting behavior.

_Are you okay,_ he asked. _You've seemed a little…distant since I owned up to my real identity._

Donatello blinked a couple of time before giving his brother a reassuring smile. _Sorry, _he said. _I know I've been a little reserved this morning, but not because of anything you've done. I didn't mean to alarm you. I really am glad you're back; I've just had some things on my mind that I'm trying to figure out._

_Anything you want to share,_ Leo asked, uncertainty beginning to fade under his brother's comforting and loving mental touch.

_Thanks, but not yet,_ Donny replied. _I'm still trying to figure out if they mean anything at all, or if I'm just making something out of nothing. When I'm a little more certain on things, I'll definitely let you know._

_Okay,_ Leo said as he flashed his brother a relieved smile and withdrew his hand.

That seemed to be Donny's cut to change the subject all together. "So, I think I've figured out why Shadow couldn't speak," he abruptly announce over his brothers' rather raucous "discussion."

"Really," Mikey asked, attention immediately diverted. "Why?"

"After listening to Leo's account of what happened that day," Donny said, "I think it started as trauma induced mutism, caused by that blow to the head he took while in the water. However, I think the shock of his apparent betrayal by our mystery person caused the condition to become somewhat psychosomatic, as the physical shock became mental and emotional shock. I'm also guessing his 'master' didn't do much to encourage his recovery."

"Too true," Leo said with a humorless laugh.

"Wait," Raph said, "if he didn't want you to talk, why teach you all those other languages? I mean, it wasn't like you could speak to anyone else."

"Not aloud," Leo admitted, "but I did need to be able to understand what they were saying, in order to fulfill my orders. Besides, I had access to certain…techniques that allowed me to communicate mind-to-mind with others, did the need arise. They weren't particularly gentle, but they were efficient."

"So what made him start speaking again," Mikey asked.

"I suspect it was the shock of remembering exactly what happened that night," Donny said. He turned to Leo. "Your distress was extreme enough to overcome the mental block; that, and you'd grown comfortable enough here to know comfort was available if you just summoned it."

"And summon he did," Raph said with a laugh, breaking up the heavy mood that had filled the room. "I think I broke a few laws of physics getting from my room to his."

The others joined him laughing, exhaustion making the comment seem funnier than it actually was. Once they got themselves under control once more, the brothers decided it was time to clean up the kitchen. By the time the short task was completed more than one turtle'd had to cover a yawn. This time, when Leo suggested they all go back to bed, the proposition was greeted with much more aplomb. Only, none of the younger turtles wanted to return to his own bed, since they weren't quite ready to let Leo out of their sight. They finally compromised by pulling the blankets and pillows back into the dojo and all bunking down together. There, cuddled up between Raph and Mikey, with Donny well within reach, Leo fell into the first peaceful, dreamless sleep he'd had in years.

TMNT

That evening, after practice, Raph suggested they take a run topside. Leo was torn between feeling curious about his new-old world, and utterly terrified at the thought of leaving the safety of the Lair. He couldn't help his self-disgust at being so cowardly, since Shadow had visited numerous worlds across the galaxy and hadn't had a second thought about it. What made this so different?

Raph must have picked up somewhat of what he was feeling, for he slung an arm over Leo's shoulders and pulled him for a brief hug. "It's okay if the thought of going out make you a bit uncomfortable, you now," he said.

"I don't get it," Leo told him. "I've traveled to different planets and never had a problem. Why, then, does the idea of exploring my own world leave me shaking in my shell?"

"Think about it, bro," Mikey said, joining the pair's and overhearing the tail end of the conversation. He, too, had picked up on his older brother's disquiet through the bond. "You haven't exactly had the best experiences here on your home world."

"Everything okay," Donny asked as he joined his brothers, his supply back strapped to his back along with his bo staff. Raph quickly explained the situation. "Mikey's probably right," Donny told Leo. "Both you and Shadow experienced a lot of mental and emotional trauma here, while the Lair has been something of a safe-haven. It's understandable that you would want to stay here where you feel safest."

"Hey, bro, we don't have to do this tonight," Raph offered. "We can wait a few days while you get a little more comfortable in your skin. You've only really been Leo for less than twenty-four hours after all."

"No," Leo said firmly. "The very fact that this scares me means I have to do it. I refuse to let fear rule my life."

"You sure," Mikey asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Leo confirmed.

"Then let's get out of here," Raph said, and he led them out into the darkness.

TMNT

That night was one of the most heart-racingly exhilarating, and mind-numbingly terrifying, of Leo's life. Fortunately, the exhilaration well over-shadowed the terror. They had started the night off playing follow-the-leader, ninja style, with Raph, Mikey, and Donny all taking turns as leader. They'd offered Leo a turn, but he'd averred, stating he wasn't familiar enough with the city yet to comfortably lead.

Leo had had a blast leaping and flipping across the rooftop, chasing and teasing his brothers. He'd had even more fun showing them up in a game of dare, wherein the brothers competed to see who could pass the closest to a target human, without attracting attention. Raph did pretty well, but the indisputable winner was Leo, who not only got by the target, but also stole his watch, wallet, and toupee, _and_ returned them all two blocks later, without his victim being aware it happened at all.

Things were going great, until the turtles heard cries for help coming from a dark alley they were passing over the top of. Initially, Leo had been hesitant to intervene, but his brothers were already making their way down to street level. He arrived just in time to see his brothers facing off against a colossal human leading a group of ten or so regular sized humans; all of them were marked in some way by some sort of purple lizard. Leo was going to stay back and follow his brothers' lead, until the oversized thug threw the first punch. Powering up his spirit marks without consciously thinking about it, Leo put himself between Raph and the incoming first, and stopped it cold; with one hand.

Twisting the captured fist, Leo forced the behemoth to his knees. A stern glower kept the other hoodlums from moving to intervene. Returning his attention to his captured prey, Leo said in a voice that was much more Shadowblade than Leonardo, "You will keep your hands off my brothers."

"Let me go, you mutant freak," the massive human growled, leading Leo to twist the arm a little more.

Bringing his free hand up to place it against the growling man's temple, Leo traced an indecipherable shape softly on the skin. The human's eyes momentarily blazed with bright blue light, and he abruptly went pliable. Letting him go completely and stepping back, while the large man stayed on his knees, Leo said in the same dark voice from earlier, "You will leave my brothers alone, and you will tell your master that Shadowblade, formerly a Chi'Tarri trainee, has placed them under his protection. Any aggression against them will be met by _me_. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Then take your goons and depart," Leo commanded. Within minutes, the humans were gone. The glow faded from the spirit marks, and Leo sagged in exhaustion. Fortunately, Donny and Mikey had been expecting that, so they were in place to catch him as his legs buckled under him.

"That was wicked cool, bro," Mikey said as he wrapped a supportive arm around his oldest brother.

"But what was 'that,'" Donny asked. "I've never seen anything like it."

"That was one of those techniques I was telling you about earlier," Leo said. "It's a quick and dirty mind grab. It was a trick we used to prevent servant and underlings from revealing our presence when we were up to…let's call them less than moral undertakings. It doesn't work on everyone, but that oversized gorilla is a follower at heart. Also, it's only short-term, and will eventually wear off."

"Let's get out of here, then," Raph said. "Hun might be a mental push-over, but his boss certainly isn't. And now that you've challenged him, he'll definitely retaliate, to save face if nothing else; we'll deal with that when it comes. Right now, let's get going."

The brothers made their way quickly and quietly to the nearest sewer access. Once they were safely underground once more, Mikey said, "I've been thinking; maybe it's time to have a proper welcome home party for you, Leo."

"I agree," Donny seconded unexpectedly. "April's been anxious to meet you for weeks."

"Casey too," Raph added. Then, remembering his brother's hesitation earlier that evening, he added, "but only if you're ready."

Leo gave the suggestion due consideration, and finally said, "Why not? I'll have to meet them sometime. A welcome home party's as good a place as any. What could go wrong?"

* * *

**Famous last words, huh? Any ideas what's going to happen next chapter? I'd be interested to see if anyone gets close, since I have a good idea what's going to happen. After all, what could go wrong at a welcome home party?**


	15. Stranger in Paradise

**I'm not entirely thrilled with this chapter, but it's the best it's going to get. I needed to move the story along, but I also wanted to get some of the alternate universe background for April and Casey in, especially since some of what happens with April may play a part in a later story. Still, I hope you all enjoy this, though I do apologize for the end. You'll see what I mean when you stop reading this AN and get on with the chapter. :)**

* * *

After his night out with his brothers, Leo felt there was nothing this welcome home party could throw at him that he wouldn't be able to handle. Unfortunately for everyone involved, nothing could have prepared them for what happened that night.

Looking back on it, the brothers would find it quite humorous that it wasn't the loud, abrasive Casey that caused Leo the most distress, but April instead. It just went to show that Shadow's influence could pop up anywhere and at any time.

The party was slated to start around 6:30, and the turtles were getting some last minute details taken care of, when the two humans arrived, pretty much as they always did. In other words, Casey came tearing into the Lair, boisterously announcing his arrival, while April entered more sedately behind him. There had been more than one nervous glance cast Leo's way as Casey loudly made his debut, but Leo's relaxed body language and friendly smile soon put them at ease. Of course, Casey wouldn't be Casey without him getting a bad case of foot-in-mouth syndrome at least once during the evening, and he did so that night very early in the evening.

"Dude, someone went a little overboard with the body art," Casey said immediately upon being introduced to the oldest turtle. Raph instantly smacked him upside the head, while Mikey just glared at him. "What," the confused human whined. "What'd I say?"

Rather than be insulted, though, Leo just laughed. "You're quite right, my friend," Leo said with a grin. "The markings are a bit over the top. I sometimes wonder if my master was a graffiti artist in another life."

Seeing that the new turtle wasn't upset by his thoughtless comment, Casey proceeded to ask, "So…what do they mean?"

"They have any number of meanings, depending on which marks I engage," Leo responded. "The most basic explanation is that they are symbols that allow me to use my will to enhance my physical and mental abilities."

"Oh," an enthusiastic female voice said from behind Casey. "I think I get it now!"

Leo turned to face the speaker, only to have his thoughts come to screeching halt in panic. Unconsciously, he began to back away from the red-haired female in front of him, his body tensed as if awaiting a blow.

Recognizing the Shadow-driven response, but uncertain what set if off, Raph moved to intercept his shake, and shaking, sibling. Making sure to keep his movements slow as to not startle Leo, he put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Whoa, easy there, Leo," he said softly. Leo, however, continued to quiver, and the wild look in his eyes was beginning to scare the younger turtle. "Leo, look at me. Look at me! I don't know what you're seeing, but you need to look at me," Raph ordered, his tone bordering on desperate.

"Don't you see it," Leo whispered hoarsely, a shaky hand pointing at April. Suddenly, he switched over to mental speech. _Don't you realize what she is? She's a nascent queen. I can feel it from here. As bad as my master was, the queen were hundreds of time meaner, crueler, and more vicious. Among the Chi'Tarri, none are more powerful than the queens._

The change in tense, and even more so the manner of communication, alerted Raph that something was seriously wrong. It was clear, wherever his mind had gone, it was a scary place; scary enough that the Leo-part of his brother had disappeared almost completely, leaving only Shadow in his place. That actually gave Raph an idea about how to get through to his brother.

"Shadowblade," Raph said firmly, using the name Leo had given Hun during their confrontation. "That's enough. April is a friend; we've known her since she was fifteen. No way is she some creepy, sadistic alien dictator wannabe. She's not going to hurt you, or any of us. I promise; just give her a chance."

For a long moment, Leo didn't say anything, and didn't move. He didn't even blink. Taking a chance, Raph reached out and placed a gentle hand over his brother's heart. After a long, silent moment, Leo returned the gesture. They eyes met, and the slightest shudder ran through Leo's body. Finally, he gave his brother the very slightest of smiles. He allowed Raph to lead him back to where a visible upset April was waiting with the others. Leo opened his mouth to apologize, but April beat him to it.

"I'm so sorry if I upset you," she said in a rush. "Donatello said things hadn't been easy for you, and of course I don't want to make things worse. I had no idea seeing me would bring back such bad memories. Maybe I should…"

Her apology was cut off as Leo placed a light finger over her mouth. Startled, she met his eyes, and Leo saw the one thing that would always set his new friend apart from the cruel Chi'Tarri queens he'd mistaken her for: genuine compassion and empathy. Whatever else his senses were telling him about this young woman, he knew for certain now she would never hurt him. She literally wasn't capable of the brutality and malice he previously encountered at a queen's command.

Removing his finger from her mouth, he said, "Can we try this again?" At the warm smile he got for an answer, he said, "Then let me introduce myself. My name is Leo, and it is a pleasure to meet you. I'm sorry if I distressed you a moment ago; as you can see, I still have some…issues from my past to resolve."

"Well, I'm April, and the pleasure is mine," the red-head replied. "And nevertheless, I'm sorry I brought up such bad memories."

"Not your fault," Leo said. "Besides, something's telling me getting to know you just might help settle some of those memories."

"So, we good now," Casey suddenly interrupted.

"We're good," Leo confirmed.

"Aaaand that's my cue to cut in," Mikey said from the kitchen doorway. "We've got the food set up in the kitchen. Come grab some eats, and let's move this party to the family room." When Leo seemed ready to hesitate, Mikey added, "We've got pizza. You don't want it to get cold."

"Pizza," Leo asked, suddenly eager. He'd become a huge fan of the dish after his first bite several weeks before.

"Yep," his brother confirmed, "so come get it while it's hot."

TMNT

Once everyone had filled their plates and settle down to eat, the topic turned to how the turtles met and April and Casey.

"I know you were 15 when you met my brothers," Leo told April, "but _how_ did you meet? As far as I know, fifteen-year-olds don't go wandering randomly through the sewers; other than us, that is."

April's warm laugh was like a balm to Leo's still unsettled emotions, helping him relax even more. "No, usually teenagers avoid the sewers like the plague," she agreed, "and the truth is I didn't meet the boys in the sewers. I actually first met Mikey one evening at an empty playground. I was headed home from my after school job, and I cut across the park since it was the shortest way home, when I heard the sound of a little kid crying. I don't know if the boys told you, but I was in foster care, so I was accustomed to helping out with the younger kids, and I hated to hear one upset. I will say, I certainly wasn't expecting to find a child turtle when I went looking for what I thought was a lost child. Still, he was just a kid, and I couldn't leave him like that."

Leo looked at his younger brother for an explanation. "I'd had a fight with our sensei," Mikey explained. "About you, actually. He insisted I let you go; I wasn't ready. I yelled at him about it before tearing off into the sewer; I eventually made my way to that playground where April found me."

"I calmed him down, and we talked about things for a while before I walked him 'home,'" April went on to say. "I told him if he ever needed to talk again, he could find at that playground most evenings. I didn't expect him to take me up on it, but three days later, there he was; and this time he wasn't alone. After a couple of months visiting on the sly like that, the boys decided to introduce me to their fa…sensei. He wasn't sure about me at first, but when Mikey made it clear he was going to continue to see me with or without permission, well, what could their sensei say?"

"So, how does Casey fit into this," Leo asked.

"Casey didn't enter the picture until a couple of years later," Donatello said. "Turned out, April was a certified genius, and she started college when she was 16. I think we all figured that would be the end of our friendship, but April made sure her relationship with us wasn't neglected. She and Raph still talked motorcycles. She and Mikey still had movie nights, and she and I geeked-out over the material she was learning in her courses, since she was double majoring in electrical engineering and computer science, along with a minor in mechanical engineering."

At Leo's confused look, Raph interpreted. "She can build practically anything, and if it has power or a computer, she can make it sit up and dance. In other words, she's scary smart, just like Donny."

"Anyway," April said, resuming the story, "it was while I was at school that I met Casey. He stepped in and saved from some muggers one night when I was headed home from class. Turned out, he was working some odd jobs around the campus."

"My goal had been to go into law enforcement, like my dad," Casey said. "But my senior year of high school I injured took a nasty blow to the head, and the resulting brain damage was just enough to disqualify me from going to the academy. So I spent several years floating around, trying to find a new niche. Thanks to April, I finally did."

"He helped a friend with some pretty serious car repairs," April explained. "I didn't have the time, so Casey took care of it for me; that was when I suggested he get his certification, and maybe think about opening his own shop. I didn't know it at the time, but his uncle had been pushing him to do just that, with an eye toward having Casey take over his shop when he retired."

"So, I started taking classes, with help from April," Casey said, "and April finally agreed to go out with me. We'd been seeing each other for a couple of months, when she decided it was time to introduce me to her family. She made it clear my acceptance of them, or lack thereof, was deal breaker before she introduced me, but nothing could have prepared me for the 'little brothers' she introduced me to. I still don't know what got me most: the ninja thing, the mutant thing, or the sewer thing. It didn't take me long to find my place in the group though."

"What he means, is it only took several dozen arguments with Raph, two encounters with the Purple Dragons, and an ultimatum from me before he found his niche," April said.

"Ah, but Ms. O'Neil, let's not forget the innumerable number of pizza and bowls of ice cream before family peace was established," a soft voice from the entrance said.

Everyone turned to see the unannounced visitor, and the three younger turtles jumped up in joyous surprise. "Sensei," they all cried in unison as they ran to the newcomer's side.

Leo couldn't have been more curious to meet his brother's mysterious teacher, considering everything he'd heard about him, so he wasn't expecting his whole world to come crashing down around him when he saw the elderly rat. All at once, everything came together in his mind, and he was finally able to remember just whose voice it was that he heard betraying him in his dreams.

"It was you," he snarled, drawing his swords as he advanced toward the crowd at the door. "You gave me to them."

"Leo," Raph cried in bewilderment, "what are you doing? That's our sensei; our father."

"He's no father to me," Leo denied, attempting to get at his target without harming his brothers. "He let those monsters take me away."

"You've got to be mistaken," Mikey protested.

"I recognize his voice," Leo shouted. "I've spent months hearing that voice in my worst nightmare, and now I know why I felt so betrayed. My own 'father' handed me over. Now, get out of the way, so I can face him."

"Have you gone mad," Raph growled back. "No way our father sold you out. I don't know why you're acting like this, but cut it out."

"Move, Raphael," Leo hissed. "I don't want to hurt you, but my honor will be avenged."

"Like shell it will," Raphael replied. Later, when his head had cleared, Raphael would be sickened by what he did next, but in the heat of the moment, he let his anger overwhelm him. Leo had instinctively powered up his spirit marks in preparation for the confrontation with the one who had done him such wrong. When Raphael touched him, however, all the anger, fear, and confusion the younger turtle was feeling lashed through Leo, and the marks went from their regular glowing green that indicated Leo's will flowing through them, to the angry red-white of the punishment level.

In an instant, Leo was gone, leaving Shadow in his place. Reacting as he'd been programmed to do, the tattooed turtle immediately dropped into the Position of Submission, fear and hurt turning his face into an agonized mask.

"I…I…Leo, I didn't," Raph immediately stuttered, almost tripping over his feet as he stumbled back away from his fallen brother. At hearing his real name, all color faded from the spirit marks, and Leo looked up to meet his brother's horrified face. Agony and horror filled Leo's countenance as he realized everyone had seen him so humiliated, and with a wordless cry of disgust, he jumped to his feet and disappeared into the dark sewer, his dismayed family staring silently after him.

* * *

**So, Splinter is back. As many of you called it, he was the one Leo saw in his dream. Don't worry; he's not going to be a bad guy. I just couldn't write Splinter as evil. There will be an explanation for what happened, and we'll find out more about what's been going on with Donny. So, hang tight. I'll get the next chapter as soon as possible, as soon as I figure out whether I'm going to follow Leo, or stick with the family at the Lair. Right now, my muse is arguing for both. **


	16. Conversation with a Stranger

**After reading everyone's kind review and thoughts, I decided to follow up with what's happening with Splinter and the rest of the family. I also changed my mind slightly about what I was going to do with Splinter. Actually, I went back to my very first idea about what happened. My intent with this chapter was to present what happened, and Splinter's choice, and let you each make up your mind about whether this makes him a good guy or a bad guy. So go read and see what you think.**

* * *

For several long heartbeats following Leonardo's abrupt departure, no one said anything, or even dared to move a muscle. When reality snapped back into place, Michelangelo made as if to follow his older brother, but Raphael stopped him.

'Leave him alone, Mikey," Raph said softly. "He's not going to want us around just yet. He needs some time to process everything."

Michelangelo clearly wasn't happy about it, but he conceded to Raphael's counsel.

"I think, my sons, you have a little explaining to do," Master Splinter interjected, confusion and warning in his voice.

No one could have been more surprised than the elderly rat when Donatello countered, "No, sensei, I think _you_ have some explaining to do."

"I think that's our cue to leave," April interrupted, obviously feeling very ill at ease to be present for what was shaping up to be a family "discussion" of epic proportions; Donatello didn't speak like that to his father without extreme provocation after all. "Casey and I will see if we can locate Leo. I'll give you a call of we find him."

In very little time, polite goodbyes were exchanged, and the two humans headed out into the sewers. That left three highly agitated turtles and one very disturbed rat to discuss the elephant that had been in the room for the past ten years.

"Let's take this…family council into the dojo," Splinter commanded. "Then I would like an explanation for your accusation, Donatello."

The family resituated itself in the dojo, but if anyone was expecting Donatello to have back down, they would have been quite disappointed.

"You want and explanation," Donatello said harshly. "I'll give you an explanation. It starts all the way back to the weeks following Leo's initial disappearance, and your rather extreme reaction to it. I spent years wondering why you basically eradicated any shred of evidence he'd ever existed. For a long time I thought maybe Leo had actually committed suicide, or some other grievous sin, and you were trying to erase the shame of it or something; but that explanation never quite made sense."

Startled by his genius son's line of thought, the elderly rat protested, "You brother never brought anything but honor to this family."

"I finally decided that on my own," Donatello said. "Partly from things I'd learned about psychology, depression and suicide, but even more because of a secret I've been keeping for the last two years; a secret _you_ told me, sensei."

"What," the rest of the family exclaimed, though no one was more surprised than Master Splinter himself.

"I think you'd better explain that remark, bro," Raphael said, shock making his voice rough.

"I've been holding on to this for so long, I can't decide if it's a relief or not to share it," Donatello confessed. "I wanted to tell Leo after he admitted who he is, but I wasn't sure how it all fit together. Now that Master Splinter's back, though, maybe he can fill in the missing pieces."

"Just get on with it," Michelangelo demanded.

"Okay, you remember two years ago when Sensei got so sick," Donatello asked.

"Sure," Raphael said with a shiver. "We weren't sure he was going to make it, and you so wore yourself out taking care of him that we were afraid you were going to make yourself sick, too."

"Well, when his fever was at its worst, he began to hallucinate, and at one point thought I was Leo." At this point, Donatello had to stop, and un-nameable emotion clogging his throat. Regaining control, he continued, "He kept apologizing and begging me, or Leo rather, to forgive him. When I asked why he needed forgiving, he just said, 'It wasn't supposed to be you, but I had to let them take you. Forgive me, but it was either your life, or your brothers'.' I've never forgotten those words." By this point, tears were pouring down Donatello's face, but it was like he didn't notice them as he continued to let the story, so long withheld, pour out of him. "After you recovered, Sensei, I kept waiting for some sign you remembered what you had said, but you never did. Even when I tried to hint at it, or jog your memory, you acted like you had no idea what I was talking about. I couldn't share what I'd heard with my brothers because I wasn't certain just what I _had_ heard. Instead, I kept it to myself. I've carried this huge secret around for the past two years; not, I have to have the answers. Even if _we_ didn't deserve the answers, _Leo _would, because I think he's right. He lived through 10 years of hell, and somehow it's your fault."

Raphael couldn't recall a time his father looked as old and worn down and…broken as he did when Donatello finished speaking. It scared him because it made him seriously begin to consider that Leo had been correct, and if that was the case, he'd betrayed his brother twice that night. Unfortunately, the story his father proceeded to tell did nothing to relieve his mind.

"Donatello, my son, I regret you have been so troubled," Splinter said quietly. "None of this was ever meant to be your burden to bear. The knowledge of your brother's fate, and my failure, was to have been my penance for what I allowed to happen to him."

"What did you do," a horrified Michelangelo demanded, voicing the question Raphael was too sickened to ask himself.

"Should we not wait until we locate your brother to have this discussion," Splinter uncharacteristically hedged. "He, more than anyone, deserves to hear this."

"Right now, Sensei, he's much more likely to slit your throat than listen to any explanation you'd be willing to give," Donatello told him, his tone so icy you could almost see the frost forming in the air. "I think it'd be best if you tell us and allow us to convey it to him. Assuming, of course, you have a reasonable explanation." The challenge was clear in his voice.

Splinter sighed heavily, knowing the sordid tale couldn't be put off any longer. "The story begins back when the four of you were very young. Leo and Raph were three, and you and Mikey no more than two. It was the middle of winter, and all of you had fallen gravely ill. Nothing I did had any effect at all; I was losing you, and there was nothing I could do. But, just when all seemed lost, rumors arose about someone who might be able to help. Desperate, I sought the individual out. I knew it would be a devil's bargain, for I had no way to pay for what I needed, but I had to do something; I couldn't lose my family again. When the deal was struck, it was agreed that's I'd pay one life for four. I swear, though, it was my life I offered. I just begged for the time to see you all old enough to thrive on your own. To my surprise, the bargain was accepted, conditions and all."

"So what change," Raphael demanded hotly. "If the agreement was for your life, why did they take Leo? Why did you give him to them? How could you possible justify exchanging his life for yours?"

"It wasn't like that," Splinter asserted. "I had every intention of following through with the deal."

"But you didn't," Raphael exploded. "Leo did! He was taken, and beaten, and mutilated, and emotionally abused and broken."

"Raph," Michelangelo said softly. "Let him finish. For Leo's sake, if nothing else, we need to hear him out."

Raphael continued to scowl at his father, but he didn't say anything further.

Without delay, Splinter continued his story. "I spent the first several months afterwards looking over my shoulder, certain they were going to renege on the deal at any time, despite what we'd agreed. As time when on, and nothing happened, I pushed it to the back of my mind. By the time Leo disappeared, I had forgotten it completely. And then, Leo went missing, and I went hunting for him, only to come face-to-face with the very creature I had made the arrangements with five years earlier. When I saw he had your brother, I demanded he give him back, but he refused. He pointed out that we had agreed on one life for four. I tried to argue that I had bargained my own life, but he countered I had neglected to make that distinction. To the contrary, I had requested forbearance until you were able to look after yourselves. At that point, you were only seven and eight; far too young to survive on your own. I found myself hoisted by my own petard since, by my own contract, they _couldn't_ take me lest something happen to one of you, voiding the contract altogether. I had a choice to make. I either let them take Leo, and remain behind to look after the rest of you, or I traded my life for Leo's and left you all vulnerable and alone. It broke my heart, but the guaranteed protection of three of you outweighed the potential loss of all of you. It was the better of two ugly choices."

"No it wasn't," Raphael yelled, springing to his feet. "You could have tried to fight to get him back. He was only eight years old, and you let those sadistic monsters take him. He heard you hand him over to them!"

At that point, Splinter did something he'd never done before; something he'd never even thought himself capable of. He backhanded Raphael across the face. The force of the blow was enough to knock the red-masked turtle to the floor, a spot of blood appearing where his lip caught on his teeth. Splinter was so overwrought by this point, however, he didn't notice.

"How dare you," he thundered. "You sit here and judge me and second guess me, but you weren't the one having to make the decisions that night. And for your information, I did attempt to engage that…thing. As soon as I saw it had your brother, I attacked it, but it was too fast and too strong. I was down and out of the fight within the first thirty seconds."

"That's what happened to your leg," Donatello suddenly proclaimed. "You said you took a nasty fall while looking for Leo, which I guess you technically did. That's why you have a limp today, though; your leg never healed right after that."

"Correct as usual, Donatello," Splinter said in a dead voice, all the anger and spirit gone from his tone. "I was hurt, badly, and I faced a decision no father should ever have to make. The truth is none of you could ever detest me more than I detest myself."

"It that why you acted like Leo never existed," Michelangelo asked quietly.

"The guilt of what I had done was like acid in my heart," Splinter replied. "The constant, daily reminders of what we had lost, what I had given up, were slowly killing me. So yes, I removed every trace of Leonardo so I wouldn't be reminded of how badly I had failed."

"Why didn't you tell us any of this before now," Donatello asked plaintively. "This affected all of us; we had a right to know."

"At first, you were too young to comprehend," Splinter said. "By the time you were old enough to understand what I was telling you, you'd stopped asking. Given how difficult that time was for all of our family, I didn't want to reopen any wounds."

"And you didn't want to face your own culpability," Raphael spat. "So you took the coward's way out and didn't say anything at all."

"Raphael…" Splinter started, but the angry turtle cut him off.

"No. I can't talk to you anymore right now. I'm going to go find my brother and beg his forgiveness for what I did to him tonight. When _he's_ ready, we'll come back and you can explain to him why his father betrayed him like you did. The rest is up to him. But know this: I belong to him now. He's my twin, my brother, my friend, and my leader. I go where he goes, even if that means leaving home. You made your choice ten years ago; I'm making mine tonight."

And with that, Raphael turned and left the dojo.

* * *

**So, having heard Splinter's side of things, what do you think? I'm truly curious about everyone's take on his choice. Oh, and I hope you liked Raph's pledge to Leo. Of course, he'll have to deliver it to his brother in person at some point, but he's got to find Leo first; we all know what kind of trouble Leo can get into by himself. Oh, and Splinter's not the only keeping secrets. Someone else is about to reveal some real doozies to Leo here soon. You'll just have to wait and see...**


	17. Stranger in His Own House

**So, I was trying to figure out just how this chapter was going to play out, and this is how it insisted it go. I fought it for a while, but I finally decided, if I was going to make this story AU, I might as well go all out. So, I beg your indulgence, because I really went out on a limb here. I promised you secrets, and secrets are definitely what you get. Just don't kill me when _you _find out.**

* * *

Leo ran headlong through the dark sewers, fear, anger, and hurt, both physical and emotional, all combining to blind him to his surroundings. He didn't know, and didn't care, where he was going; he just needed to get away from what had just happened. His thoughts were so chaotic, he couldn't get them into any sort of order; he could barely handle the mishmash of emotions surging through him.

Meeting Casey had brought up a sense of comfortable familiarity. Sure, the human was loud and uncouth, but so had his battle-brother Boomslag. It was a personality trait Leo knew how to work with. The young human-queen, however, had thrown him off. His brothers trusted her, so Leo would as well, but he couldn't imagine ever having the relaxed comfort with her as there was with Casey. And then there was his father. This was where his emotions really turned into a jumbled mess.

The part of him that was Shadow was every bit as terrified of the elderly rat as he'd initially been of April. To the emotionally wounded drudge Splinter had been the bogeyman, the monster under his bed, and his worst nightmare all rolled into one horrifying package.

If Shadow had reacted in terror to Splinter's appearance, Shadowblade had only felt anger, and the desire to eliminate a threat before it could strike again. After all, it had been Splinter who had handed him over to the Chi'Tarri in the first place. His own father, the one person he should have been able to depend on, had let him go. So, yes, there was a fierce, bubbling anger pooling inside him, desperate to strike out.

And then, underneath it all, was Leo. Beneath the fear and anger, there was love, but that only made the other emotions more intense, for it was a love tempered and tainted by hurt. Leo just wanted to collapse in tears and beg his father to explain what he'd done that was so deplorable that he deserved to be cast off like so much dross. More than that, though, he longed to have his father wrap him in his arms like he had when Leo was a child and reassure him everything would be okay, even as his heart cried he couldn't believe his father even if Splinter did offer such comfort.

Leo was so inundated with emotions tied into trying to cope with his father's return and all that encompassed; he simply didn't have the emotional capacity to even process what had taken place between him and Raphael. That was a mere drop in a bucket already overflowing.

Between the darkness and the crushing tide of emotions, the sewers began to feel too stifling and enclosed, so Leo fled topside. It may not have been the safest decision, but by that point Leo couldn't be bothered. He needed the space and open air to deal with the suffocating mental agitation filling his mind.

Once topside, Leo began to just run. He didn't know where he was going, and he didn't particularly care. All that mattered was just staying in motion. Whether by fate or by chance, he ultimately ended up on the same roof he and Bishop had clashed on that night so many weeks ago. Spent and exhausted, both physically and emotionally, Leo collapsed to his knees, his sobs making his chest hurt as he struggled to pull enough air into lungs choked by emotion.

It took Leo a few minutes to realize he wasn't alone. Drawing his blades, he turned to face the silently waiting Bishop. The human, however, held his arms out to demonstrate he was unarmed, and his body language remained unthreatening.

"Peace, battle-brother," Bishop said. "I mean you no harm."

"You are no battle-kin to me," Leo whispered grimly.

"Young one, you have no idea just how mistaken you are," Bishop told him. "I'm guessing, based on your returned gift of speech, your memories of your true self have been restored."

"What import does it have for you," Leo demanded angrily.

"So much more than you can guess," Bishop said. "In fact, my understanding of your past goes so much beyond any question you could even consider asking."

"If you have something to tell me, just say it," Leo growled. "I'm not up to playing mind games with you."

"Are you sure," Bishop asked. "You won't like much of what I have to tell you."

"I just learned my own father handed me over to the Chi'Tarri," Leo said bitterly. "I don't know how much worse than that it can get."

"Don't be so certain, Leonardo," Bishop told him cryptically. "Your father's apparent betrayal is only the very surface of the truths kept from you and your brothers."

"Then tell me," Leo implored, his tone bordering on desperate. "I'm tired of secrecy and not knowing. My world has already been knocked off its axis; you might as well knock it out of orbit as well." He slid his swords back into their sheaths and forced himself to relax.

"Let me warn you, it's a long, complex tale," Bishop warned. "It begins nearly 150 years ago, when a young, stupid, inexperienced soldier was stolen away from all he knew and thrown into a world both literally and metaphorically alien from his own."

"That would be you," Leo ventured.

"Correct," Bishop confirmed. "Earth at that time was almost primitive, especially compared with the Chi'Tarri. I don't know why I was chosen out of the thousands of soldiers, but I was taken and presented as a trainee to my new master. She was now mere Chi'Tarri master, but a full queen."

Leo shuddered at hearing that; he couldn't imagine being handed over to one of the vicious creatures as a trainee.

"I see you've experienced their true nature," Bishop said. "My queen was no less loathsome; it just took me a long time to see her for what she truly was. All I can say is I was young and stupid at the time, and I had been pulled from a gruesome, brutal war and dropped in what seemed to me to be the lap of luxury. On top of that, there was this glorious, delicate female stroking my ego and pride. I threw myself into the training because it pleased her, and because it made me more capable of serving and defending her. She was my goddess, my general, and my lover all at once, and I couldn't have been more content."

"So what changed," Leo asked, curious despite himself.

"I overheard her talking with two of her advisors. They couldn't understand her fascination with me. I was foolish enough to expect her to return my regard, and to declare to them her devotion to me; that wasn't what I heard. Instead, she confessed she only put up with the physical intimacy because it kept me chained to her, and because she had never encountered a hardier, more stalwart race of slaves. Terrans, it turned out, were highly prized for their fortitude and adaptability. Our only downfall is we are too independent and headstrong to accept the bond easily, hence her use of what was basically a honey trap to keep me bound to her."

"Nothing like the unvarnished truth to open your eyes," Leo commented.

"Indeed," Bishop agreed. "Which is why, from that day forth, I began to do what I could to free myself from her clutches."

"This is all fascinating," Leo interrupted, "but what does it have to do with me?"

"Everything," Bishop told him. "You see, I decided it wasn't enough for me to free just myself from those monsters; they needed to be eradicated completely. I was wise enough to realize, however, that I couldn't take them down by myself. While I was by far the strongest and best warrior trained by the Spirit Masters, I wasn't good enough. I was going to need a weapon forged just for that purpose."

It didn't take much for Leo to realize he was the weapon Bishop was talking about. What he couldn't figure out was the "how," and he said as much to Bishop.

"By this time, my mistress was growing bored with me, and she was so certain of her hold on me that I was granted an unparalleled amount of freedom. I took advantage of every inch of slack in my leash to put my plan into motion. To begin with, I started recruiting the best and the brightest individuals I could find, of all sorts of talents, here on Earth. We already knew our warrior had to be Terran, since the bond was weakest with us, but we were finding that humans just didn't have the physical fortitude to undergo the extreme lengths and training from the Spirit Masters that would be necessary to accomplish our goals. So we turned our attention to genetic manipulation."

"You mean mutants, like me and my family," Leo said.

"Yes. I had access to the knowledge and materials, but finding successful combinations was difficult," Bishop said. "Your father was our very first viable candidate. As soon as he was mature enough, we started his training under the tutelage of my right hand man, Hamato Yoshi. Everything was going according to plan, and we were about ready to set it into motion, when fate threw an unexpected kink into our plans. It turned out Chi'Tarri and humans are genetically compatible, and my mistress wasn't as careful during her fertile time as she should have been."

"You got her pregnant," Leo squawked in disgusted shock.

"To put it bluntly," Bishop confirmed. "Maybe it was selfish, but I couldn't allow my child to be raised by those monsters, to become like them. The problem was, it was going to take several years at a minimum for your father to gain all the training he was going to need; years we didn't have if I was going to save my child."

"Why not get him in place, and then worry about the baby," Leo asked.

"Because as soon as the child disappeared, the first thing the queen would order done was the killing of any trainee or drudge, particularly the Terrans, with less than five year's service. Any time less than that was considered too short for the bond to have fully fused with their minds, and killing them as an example was standard practice in such circumstances. I had seen it happen more than once during my time as the queen's pet. We also knew we wouldn't get your father in with them if we waited until after I took the child, because it would be a long time before the Chi'Tarri would be willing to risk taking another Terran as a trainee. I would have proven our race was hard to handle, and I would have delivered a humiliating blow like they'd never experienced before. They couldn't afford to take the risk of looking weak a second time, but they also couldn't openly take revenge against Earth, since we are technically considered a protected planet due to our still infant technological advancement. So, we began to build a new plan; one that would give the Chi'Tarri time to both overcome their humiliation, and stoke their desire for retribution. Their egos are such that eventually they'd seek out another Terran, if only to prove they could master our rebellious natures. I just had to make sure that when the time came, it was my tool they chose."

"Which is where I come in," Leo concluded.

"Eventually," Bishop acknowledged. "When you and your brothers were born, we didn't randomly select one of you to be our agent. We had to let you grow and develop so we could determine which of you would serve our needs best."

"So my whole history, our life with our father, was a lie," Leo stated, tone hollow.

"No," Bishop contradicted with surprising passion. 'We couldn't risk the enemy discovering the truth through the bond, so we had to distance ourselves from you completely. There could be no hint of my involvement at all. Our original plan was for the four of you to be raised by different guardian, and then the best candidate would be offered up to the Chi'Tarri. It was actually your father who suggested a different path. He pointed out that if our weapon was to have the strength to overcome the bond, he would need ties strong enough to take its place. It was his idea to keep you together and succor your bonds of brotherhood; he knew you would need them. To that end, he underwent intense hypnosis to make him forget his true history, though we left as much intact as we reasonably could so that he could prepare you for what you would face. We also implanted certain cues into his subconscious that we could trigger when the time was right."

"What you're telling me, then, is our father never actually loved us; he was just acting according to his programming," Leo said, certain he couldn't hurt any more than he did at that moment. This was worse than finding out Splinter had let the Chi'Tarri take him. Except, the look on Bishop's face said he was vastly mistaken in his assumption.

"Leonardo, take my word as a father who was forced to watch his only child grow up from afar," Bishop replied earnestly. "Your father has loved you from day one. He was present from your birth, and from the very beginning he considered you his. He refused to let anyone else take on the responsibility for caring for you and your brothers. His suggestion to keep you together may have been practical, but it _was_ born from the desire to protect and look after his family. He loves, and has always loved, you more than life itself. His love for you was almost enough to overcome the hypnotic suggestions that brought you to the attention of the Chi'Tarri. Even now, he spends time every year with one of our healers trying to reconcile his guilt. Of course, he doesn't realize the Ancient One is one of ours, and I've been informed the damage done to his psyche is severe. He just can't forgive himself for what he let happen to you."

Leo sat in silence for several minutes, trying to take in and absorb when he'd been told. He didn't know what to believe. Was his whole life a life, or did perception truly form reality? How did his father really fit into all of this? Leo had too many questions, but his head was too full to make head or tails of the information he had in order to extract the answers. The only thing he knew for certain was that he wanted, no, needed his brothers. With Raph, Donny, and Mikey at his side, he knew everything would make sense again.

He never got the chance to act on his desire. Before either he or Bishop could move, they came face-to-face with a trio of heavily armed warriors, spirit marks blazing with power.

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**Yes, another evil cliffhanger. I had to put Leo in danger, just in case you didn't care for where this story decided to go. Hopefully you'll come back, just to find out the fight turns out (definitely more hurt/comfort coming). And don't worry, we'll find out more about the baby, though I'm sure many of you have already worked out who it is.**


	18. Heat of a Strange Battle

**I'm a little concerned about this chapter; I don't really care for it, but my muse won't budge on it. I will admit now, I am absolute rubbish at writing fight scenes. Mainly I try to give you a few details and let your imaginations fill in the rest. That said, I guess I should put a violence warning on this chapter. It does get bloody, but I don't think it's particularly graphic; just be aware it's in there.**

* * *

After leaving his family sitting in stunned silence in the dojo, Raphael didn't go any farther than the living room. He knew his brothers wouldn't be far behind him. Besides, they already had one family member wandering around in the night; it would be stupid for him to disappear as well.

Sure enough, within moments both Michelangelo and Donatello emerged from the now darkened dojo. Raphael couldn't even summon the energy to be appalled that his father was choosing to meditate rather than help look for his missing son.

Donatello must have read some of what he was feeling on his face, for he said, "Master Splinter feels his presence would be more of a hindrance than a help in the search for Leo."

"And he'd be right, wouldn't he," Raphael said in a surly tone.

"Raph, I'm not going to stand here and defend him to you," Donatello said. "I don't agree with his decisions. Giving Leo to those monsters and keeping the truth from us all these years were both wrong choices, and it's something we're going to have to deal with as a family at some point. But right now, you need to put the anger and aggression away. They'll only get in the way of us finding Leo."

"You're right," Raphael admitted, forcing the negative thoughts back for the moment. "But where do we start? Leo wasn't exactly thinking rationally when he left out of here, and he doesn't exactly know his way around the sewers. He could have ended up just about anywhere."

"I have a suggestion," Mikey spoke up. "Why don't we see if we can use the bond to track him? Didn't he say his former master could do that?"

"It's worth a shot," Donatello agreed.

The three turtles took a seat on the floor and worked to clear their minds, much like they would before starting their meditation. Raphael in particular had a hard time achieving the proper state of mind, but eventually he got there. Turning inward, he found the place where his mind had fused with Leo's. At first, all he got was a cacophony of mixed up emotions. Raphael had to grit his teeth as he pushed through the layers of confusion, fear, anger, grief and, not surprisingly, love, until he reached the core of Leo's mind. Regrettably, Raph didn't have enough experience using the bond to track his brother by it. He did try calling to Leo, but whatever was taking place on Leo's end was enough to prevent him from hearing his brother. Either that, or he was purposefully ignoring Raph; not that Raphael could blame him if he was. His actions of earlier than evening were going to take a heart as big as Leo's to forgive. All Raph could say for certain was that Leo was somewhere to the east.

"Well, that's more that we got," Donatello said when Raphael reported what he had gleaned from the bond. "When things finally get settled around here, we really need to sit down and figure out just what we can do with this bond. I feel like we are really underutilizing it."

"Let's just get Leo back, and then we can worry about the bond," Raph suggested.

As the turtles headed off into the sewers, following the vague impressions Raph was getting from Leo, the red-masked turtle grew pensive. Finally, unable to restrain himself any longer, he asked his younger brothers, "Do you guys think I was too harsh with Master Splinter tonight? I know I have a tendency to fly off the handle, and now that I've had a chance to cool down some, I can admit he was placed in a tough position."

"Shell no," Mikey exclaimed. "He had other options; he didn't have to sell Leo out. We all know he's been friends with the Ancient One since before we were born. Why didn't he call on him for help? If nothing else, he could have arranged for the Ancient One to take over guardianship of us if he was so concerned about leaving us alone. Giving up Leo should have never been an option. And if you ever start doubting that, just remember the image of Shadow torturing himself in some twisted version of penance. Everything agonizing thing that was done to Leo is due to Master Splinter's choice."

"That's what I was thinking," Raph said. "I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same wavelength."

"Don't doubt it," Donatello assured him. "But while we're opening up to each other, I do want to apologize for keeping what happened with Master Splinter a secret."

"Like you said earlier, you didn't know for certain what it was you knew," Mikey consoled him, in his own convoluted way. "And, unlike Master Splinter, you were trying to protect us, not protect yourself."

For the next little while, the brother traveled in contemplative silence, each lost in his own thoughts as they continued to wind through the maze of sewer tunnels. The thoughtful atmosphere was finally shattered when Donatello began to recognize their surroundings.

"Uh, guys, we're almost to the neighborhood where we first ran into Leo," he said. "In other words, this is Bishop's territory."

"Why would he come here," Raph mused, more to himself than his brothers. "And where is he for that matter? From what I'm getting through the bond, we should be right on top of him."

"Or maybe he's on top of us," Mikey suggested. "What if he went topside rather than staying the sewers? Speaking from experience, when you get as upset as Leo was earlier, the sewers can start to feel like they're closing in on you. You have so many emotions pouring out of you, the only thing you can do is get out in the fresh air where's there's room enough to feel them."

With silent accord, the brothers headed to the nearest manhole and made their way to the rooftops. From there, they traveled in the direction of the rooftop where the confrontation with Bishop had taken place. It defied all logic, but they knew that's where they'd find Leo.

Sure enough, when they got within a building or two of their destination, they could clearly see the silhouette of their brother. What they weren't expecting to see was Bishop there as well. The brothers were too far away to hear what the pair were saying, but it was clear they weren't fighting; at least, not yet.

The three younger turtles had almost reached the spot where Leo and Bishop were…conversing when the relative stillness of the night was shattered by the arrival of three new figures; figures sporting scarily familiar glowing tattoos. Between one heartbeat and the next, Leo was on his feet, spirit marks alight, swords in hand. Bishop, likewise, had pulled a pair of long knives from who-knows-where, and he'd stepped alongside Leo to face off against the newcomers.

Raphael and the other didn't have time to think about this new development; they were set on reaching their brother's side, when Leo's voice rang with uncompromising authority in their minds: _Stay where you are! This is a fight you cannot help with, and I can't afford to be distracted by protecting you. The best thing you can do to help me is keep your heads down and keep your distance. I need to know you're safe. These fools have made an unfortunate mistake, and tonight you'll get to see why I deserve the title Shadowblade._

TMNT

Upon seeing the trio of warrior before him, it took absolutely no thought for Leo to power up his own spirit marks and get his weapons in his hands. He wasn't surprised to sense Bishop do the same next to him. As his battle senses came online, however, Leo was alarmed to find his brothers so nearby. After sending what could only be construed as orders, and receiving the assurance they would be obeyed, Leo turned his attention back to the threat before him. All three trainees were familiar to him: the gray-skinned Bladesilence, the furred female Quicksilver, and the walking mountain Thunderstrike. Leo had sparred with each of them on numerous occasions during his time as a trainee. But even working together, they were no match for him. He was Shadowblade, the only trainee to be granted a shadow-name in over 1000 years. It was an honor bestowed only on the best of the best. So why only a three person squad, especially with the Traitor a known danger on the planet? He soon got his answer.

"Stand back, Traitor," Bladesilence commanded. "Our fight is not with thee this night, but the nameless one. We have been ordered to bring the drudge back to fulfill his duties among our people."

Leo gave Bladesilence a smile that was anything but friendly. "There's only one problem," he said conversationally. "I am no drudge. Feel for yourself; my bond has been accepted and sealed. Those who sent you have no claim upon me. Now, I suggest you leave before I must compel you to do so."

The three trainees were suddenly less eager to face their smaller opponent. They had come expecting to find a broken, desperate drudge who would have been an easy target. Instead, they face a hale warrior, skills as honed as ever. All the same, they had their orders. Their former companion was to come with them however they could make him.

Without further ado, Bladesilence struck out, his stiletto as silent as his name, but his quarry wasn't there. Like the shadow that was _his_ namesake, Shadowblade had disappeared into the darkness. Only his enhanced reflexes allowed the gray-skinned alien to dodge the blow that seemed to come from out of nowhere.

To an outside observer, such as the three turtles watching from the next rooftop over, the battle was almost surreal. Leo's two opponents were inhumanly fast. It was basically impossible to track their movements with the naked eye. The third warrior, in contrast, was incredibly slow, but made up for it by, apparently, being made of solid rock, and none of Bishop's blows seemed to faze the creature. Bishop easily stayed out of his reach, but there was the very good chance he'd wear himself out before the giant warrior ever felt his attack. Still, he kept trying. As for Leo, it was no wonder he was called Shadowblade. He practically became one with the darkness around him. His enemies didn't know he was there until his blades made their presence known.

While Leo appreciated the chance to let off some of the anger and aggression he'd built up that night, he knew he needed to bring the battle to a close. The events of the night were beginning to catch up to him, and as the adrenaline began to fade, his earlier fatigue started to return. If he didn't end this soon, his body would end it for him, since it wouldn't have anything left to give.

The first chance he saw, Leo took down Quicksilver with a solid blow to the temple. The lithe, fur-covered female warrior went down without a sound; just like he'd been trained. She would require medical attention, but Leo had to acknowledge it was either him or her, and he was determined to return home to his brothers. Quicksilver was a just a roadblock to achieving that goal. With her out of the way, that left only Bladesilence and Thunderfist to deal with. Making a split second decision, Leo headed toward the large Craggyan warrior.

The massive aliens were difficult opponents since they had very few weak spots. They weren't fast, but they could fight forever, so they usually outpaced their enemies. Fortunately, Leo knew exactly where to hit the huge warrior to take him down. As soon as Thunderfist turned his back to Leo, the turtle made his move. A carefully timed leap landed him on the giant's shoulder. Once there, he struck out at a bundle of nerves at the base juncture between the warrior's neck and shoulder, the precise blow sending the Craggyan into a hibernation-like state. It was a dangerous maneuver to attempt, particularly when working alone, since a miss or a blow to the wrong spot left one vulnerable and within easy reach of what was sure to be a now angry giant. With Bishop acting as distraction, however, Leo had known he was in no danger of being caught. Now there was only Bladesilence to contend with.

Stalking across the rooftop with Bishop at his side, Leo quickly cornered the smirking, gray-skinned warrior at the edge of the building.

"Concede the battle," Leo advised. "You have nowhere else to go, and we both know who would win in a showdown between the two of us."

Bladesilence, however, was oddly undaunted. "My master will be pleased to see you've lost none of your spirit. He looks forward to breaking you and making you grovel at his feet."

Before Leo could ask just how the other trainee thought he was going to manage to bring him back, a burning pressure in his right shoulder that made him drop his sword distracted him. Puzzled, Leo looked down to find an arrow sticking out of his body. In an almost distracted manner, he identified the fletching as belonging to Longshot. Any further thought was driven from his mind as a second arrow suddenly embedded itself in his left shoulder, causing him to lose his grip on that sword as well. A cry from the human beside him let Leo know Bishop had been hit as well, though he couldn't bring himself to look to see how badly.

With his nemesis now unarmed, Bladesilence once again went on the attack. Slowed significantly by his wounds, and the increasing lethargy of blood loss and exhaustion, Leo just barely stayed out of his way. As his condition deteriorated, however, the other bladesman began landing more and more blows. The first several were minor, merely surface wounds, but Bladesilence eventually got in close enough to drive his knife deep into Leo's side, in the vulnerable tissue between his shell and his plastron. Immediately, blood began to gush from the wound. Without hesitation, the merciless knife wielder sank his second blade into Leo's other side. Cackling in glee, he danced back to admire his handiwork.

Collapsing to his knees, and very aware of the anger and fear streaming from his brothers on the next roof over, Leo knew there was only one chance of winning this fight. Allowing himself to sink farther towards the ground, keeping his back angled toward Bladesilence, Leo reached up and wrapped his hand around the shaft of the arrow sticking out from his right shoulder. Letting himself go lax, he pretended to pass out; not that it was much of a pretence. As Leo had been counting on, Bladesilence rolled him over to make sure he was really out. With every ounce of strength and energy Leo had left, he yanked the arrow from his body and buried it in the gray alien's throat. Bladesilence's eyes went wide with surprise and horror as he realized his supposedly defeated adversary had killed him.

The last thing Leo saw before the darkness claimed him was the gray body sinking silently to the bloodstained ground.

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**I know; I'm evil for ending on another cliffhanger. I did promise hurt/comfort, though, and you can't get the comfort without the hurt. It might take a couple of days while my muse does some plotting. After all, I have a lot of plotlines to connect, so grant me a little patience, and we'll see what she comes up with.**


	19. Strange Mournful Mutter

**This chapter has been an absolute bear to write. It has fought me every inch of the way. I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, and not much happens, but it transitions from what happened in the last chapter to what is coming up. The only part I like is the character that shows up at the end of the chapter; I have plans for him as the story continues. Anyway, hope you all enjoy.**

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Throughout the fight between Leo and his former fellow trainees, Raphael and the others could only watch in horrified awe. There was something terrifyingly beautiful about how the combatants moved. Leo danced through the darkness and shadows like he was some sort of shadow himself, barely visible unless he wanted to be, while Bishop was merely a blur of black on black. Watching them, it was no wonder Leo, no, Shadowblade, had ordered them to stay out of the fight. It also begged the question of how they managed to survive the initial fight against Bishop. It was painfully obvious that he could have easily taken any one of them out, despite Leo's timely intervention. In fact, he could have finished them off years ago when their paths first crossed. The fact that he hadn't, in addition to the tense but civil conversation they'd observed taking place between he and Leo upon the brothers' arrival, suggested there was a lot more going on that than they were aware of.

Although Raphael understood why he and his brothers couldn't get involved in the fight, it didn't alter the fact he hated being helpless, especially when his brother was in danger. He couldn't help Leo with the battle, but at the same time he couldn't sit still through it either, so he prowled, and paced, and growled as he watched his brother fight for his life. When Leo was hit by the hidden archer's arrows, it took the combined efforts of Donatello and Michelangelo to keep Raphael from interfering. As much as they wanted to rush to their brother's assistance, they knew the gray-skinned knife-wielding alien was still a threat; one they had no chance of defeating on their own. When Leo dispatched him at last, the three turtles were on the move before the now dead alien hit the ground.

Taking no thought for the potential danger from the distant archer, the brothers rushed across the rooftops toward the fallen Leo. It was immediately clear upon reaching his side that matters were more than serious. If the amount of blood pooling around Leo wasn't clue enough, the blank look on Donatello's face would have clued Raphael in. He younger brother only looked that way when he knew a situation was urgent, and he wasn't certain there was anything he could do.

Raphael's concern was confirmed when Donatello said softly, almost to himself, "That strike to his right side must have hit his liver."

Mikey sounded incredibly young when he asked, "But you can fix it, right?"

Donatello had to fight back the emotion trying to clog his throat to say, "He's bleeding out too fast. And even if we could stop that, I'm not set up for the major surgery it would take to repair the damage."

The words were like an ice cold dagger in Raphael's heart. The only coherent thought he could on to from the many racing through his mind was: _this is all my fault._ He couldn't shake the feeling that it was his actions from earlier that evening (had it only been that evening?) that had driven his brother out of their home. If he hadn't hurt Leo, then his twin wouldn't be dying on this miserable rooftop.

The grief and guilt were so consuming, Raphael didn't realize Bishop was back on his feet until the human had slipped around them and placed some sort of pendant around Leo's neck and activated it, encasing the oldest turtle's body in a cocoon of shimmering blue energy.

"What the shell is that," Donatello demanded of the human.

"A stasis field," Bishop responded evenly. "I figured our gray-skinned friend had to be carrying one since his orders were to bring your brother back with him. Given Shadowblade's level of skill, administering a mortal, or near-mortal, wound would have been the only realistic or reasonable way to attempt to bring him back. Once he was incapacitated they would have placed him in stasis until their healers could repair the damage."

"And you know this how," Raphael challenged.

"It was standard practice back during my time among the Chi'Tarri," Bishop told him. "For a long time, the Chi'Tarri, or Pale Ones as many call them, used to prefer seasoned warriors as slaves, since they were already trained. A master would simply form the bond with the trainee while he was being healed, and then use it to force the slave's obedience. In the wake of my…desertion, they decided children and youth, though requiring more time to train and mature, were a better option since their minds and wills are more malleable and trainable. Hence the reason they took your brother at such a tender age."

"This is all fascination," Donatello said, "but what do we do now? I'm sure that stasis field will only sustain him for so long. What happens when it starts to fail?"

"It's feeding off my will," Bishop told him. "As long as I'm alive and of sufficient strength, it will keep him alive. Fortunately, it won't have to support him for long. My people will be here soon to clean up and contain this mess. They'll help get him to my…facility where we can get him the medical attention he needs."

"What the shell makes you think we're letting your people get their hands on him," Raphael growled, shifting to put himself more fully between Bishop and his unconscious brother.

"You don't have much of a choice if you want him to live," Bishop replied coolly. "If that blow did indeed hit his liver, and there's no reason to doubt Donatello's diagnosis, then your brother is going to need extensive surgery, requiring blood transfusions and life support equipment, and I have the best medical facility in the galaxy. It would seem to me the decision is clear."

"You would say that," Raphael spat. "Why the shell should we trust you not to hurt him if we let you get your creepy hands on him?"

"Because we have no choice," Donatello told his older brother sharply. "He's dying, Raphael. None of us have wanted to say it, but that's the truth. And I can't save him; I don't have the skills or the equipment that Bishop's people do. All we can do is go with them and keep an eye on things."

The decision was all but taken out of the brothers' hands by the arrival of Bishop's crew, though the turtles were surprised that Bishop indicated for them to stay back until Donatello gave them the go-ahead. As the medical team rushed to load Leo onto the gurney, Mikey noticed that of all those working for Bishop, a third or more of them weren't human.

"There's something really weird going on here," he whispered to his brothers. He didn't take into account a companion with the ability to heighten his hearing.

"There is a great deal you don't know, Michelangelo," Bishop said as a medic worked to bandage the shoulder the arrow had pierced. "I told your brother earlier this evening, before we were so rudely interrupted. Since I have no doubt he was planning to share what I told him with the rest of you, there is no reason I cannot extend you the same courtesy; as soon as we are safely off the streets, of course. Now is neither the time nor the place for such things."

"What about those guys," Mikey asked, gesturing to where the other three fallen trainees were being secured. "What's going to happen to them?"

"The two live victims will receive the care they need, though by necessity their bonds will be cauterized. We can't have them reporting back to their masters, but at the same time I will not be responsible for turning them into drudges. Once they are well enough they will be allowed to decide what they want to do from there, whether it's return home or stay to work with us."

"And Mr. Knife-happy over there that Leo had to take out," Donatello queried. "What will happen to him?"

"I know what you think of me, Donatello, but I am not a monster," Bishop said. "If we can determine where he came from, we will try to find his family, or at the very least follow the burial customs of his people. If that's not possible, we will perform an autopsy and cremate the remains. We can learn a lot about the enemy this way, and we've garnered a lot of goodwill from numerous races across the galaxy that have lost people to the Chi'Tarri. Now, I suggest you follow us if you plan on remaining with your brother." With that, he disappeared into the black helicopter-like vehicle that had silently landed on the roof.

TMNT

The relatively short trip was basically one big blur for Raphael and his brothers. So much had happened over the past several hours, and they'd had very little time to process it all. From the party, to Master Splinter's return, leading up to Leo's fight, and ending with his being shot and stabbed…Raphael suddenly jerked straight up in his seat.

"The archer," he yelped. "I forgot all about him! What happened to him? Why didn't he shoot us too when we went to Leo's aid?"

"If I were to guess, I'd say because you weren't his assigned targets," was Bishop's bland explanation. "This is one of the downsides of the bond; it can sometimes so overwhelm the mind of the trainee until he becomes incapable of independent thought. Given my experience with the Chi'Tarri I'd say his orders were simply to disarm your brother in order to give the others a chance to take him down; he could do no more and no less than that."

"But he shot you," Michelangelo pointed out.

"Only to keep me from interfering," Bishop said. "Once it was clear your brother had won the fight, there was nothing left for him to do. Given his choice of a long-range weapon, my guess is his close-quarters fighting skills are minimal at best, so he was probably long gone by the time you reached Leonardo's side."

The turtles didn't get a chance to say anything else as the sudden activity around them indicated they had reached their destination. Wisely, the three younger turtles stayed out of the way as the medical personnel hustled Leo off with the kind of controlled chaos that accompanies true emergencies. The brothers were about to follow, only to be stopped by Bishop.

"I acknowledge you are not going to like this, but you need to remain here," he told them. "Your brother is going straight into surgery, and most likely will be there a while. I have sent a messenger for your sensei; he will be here shortly. In the meantime, I will have guest quarters set up for you. I ask that you stay here until that is done. I will send someone to guide you to them when they are ready."

The turtles didn't have a chance to argue since Bishop was gone before their tired minds fully processed what he'd said. Instead, they sat huddled together, with Raphael between his younger brothers, a supportive arm wrapped around each of their shoulders. With a sigh, Mikey laid his head on his older brother's shoulder.

"Can we go back and start this night over," he asked plaintively. "How did things go so sideways?"

"Because that's how our luck runs," Raphael said pulling his baby brother just a tad closer. "But we'll get through this just like everything else, as long as we stick together."

Anything the brothers might have said was cut off by the arrival of what must have been their guide; they just weren't expecting him to be a five-foot mutant white rabbit.

"Greetings," he said, something about his gentle tone instinctively making the turtles want to trust him. "My name is Usagi. I will be your guide during your stay with us. If you will follow me, I will show you to your rooms. Given what you've been through tonight, I'm certain you could use some rest. Afterwards, I will show you to where your brother is being cared for."

Too emotionally drained to do anything else, the three turtles followed him silently from the hanger and deeper into Bishop's lair.

* * *

**So, I'm not sure how much I will get written over the winter break. Between Christmas and my little sister's wedding, we are going to be busy. Besides, my muse seems to have settled down for a long winter's nap. I'm trying to wake her up, but she's being rather recalcitrant. Wish me luck.**


	20. Story of a Stranger

**Hi, I'm back! Hope everyone had a great holiday season. Sorry it took so long to get this up. First, my muse decided to take a nap, and then we had Christmas, my sister's wedding, second Christmas with all of my siblings and siblings-in-law, and then we returned to work, and I started a second job that goes from about 4-6:30 in the evenings. Things have been busy. Still, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. No Leo, at least not directly, but my muse insisted this is what needed to come next. Warning: violence mentioned, but nothing graphic.**

* * *

Physically and emotionally exhausted, the three turtles followed their guide in a silent, listless stupor until Mikey, bless is curious, gregarious heart, finally said, "So, Usagi, what is your connection to Bishop?"

"The connection is not with Bishop, but with your brother," Usagi replied. "I owe him a life debt; my association with Bishop is simply the means whereby I can see that debt fulfilled."

Curiosity breaking through the lethargy weighing him down, Donatello said, "Sounds like you'd have quite the story to tell."

"Indeed," Usagi concurred. "It would be my pleasure to tell you the tale, once we get you settled in your room. If you'll pardon me for saying so, you all look about ready to collapse."

"It's been a long night," Raphael responded quietly.

Reading in the red-masked turtle's response no willingness to explain any further, Usagi simply led them onward until they arrived at a rather unremarkable door. Pulling a pass-card from somewhere on his person, the young rabbit warrior opened the door and motioned for the three turtles to precede him into the room. The room, though simple in design and layout, was more than comfortable. The carpet under foot was soft and thick, and of dark enough color it easily hid the dirt and stains tracked in by the turtles' soiled feet. Keeping in mind their overall grimy state, the turtles were a bit hesitant to make themselves too comfortable until they'd had the chance to clean up some. It took but a moment for Usagi to realize what was going on.

"If you'd like, I can go fetch some refreshments for you while you clean up," he offered. "I'm sure you could use it. And when I return, the story I promised you."

The turtles were too tired to argue, so Usagi quickly excused himself to find the proffered sustenance while the brothers worked out among themselves who would shower first. When he returned twenty minutes later, Raphael and Michelangelo were waiting for him, while from the bathroom came the sounds of Donatello finishing up his own ablutions. By the time Usagi had the food laid out, Donatello was finished, and it didn't take much urging to convince the brothers to dig in.

Once the first wave of food was consumed, or rather inhaled, and the turtles were comfortably settled into their second helpings, Usagi said, "If you are ready, I would be willing to tell you the story of how I came to be so deeply in your brother's debt."

"We'd appreciate it," Donatello told him. "We don't know much about Leo's time with the Chi'Tarri, and what we have heard had been rather…unpleasant."

"While I am not certain I would call my story 'pleasant,' I do believe you will appreciate what it demonstrates in regards to your brother's character," Usagi told them. "The story starts when I was very young. I had completed my formalized schooling, and had just been assigned to master who would complete my warrior training. We were on my very first mission when I met your brother…

_**The Past…**_

_Usagi looked around the room assigned to him and his master during their stay here on Konai. They were a far cry from the student barracks he'd lived in back at school, and something about them made him feel uneasy. Of course, that could simply be because that was his first Journeyman assignment, and the young samurai-in-training was scared to death he was, somehow, going to mess things up._

_The bodyguard assignment chosen by Master Hatti was relatively easy and straightforward, chosen by the senior warrior specifically because of the presence of his young pupil. Lord Kioto was finalizing a trade agreement with a neighboring lord, and had brought his own young son along to continue his training. Relations between the two Lords were good, so in theory it should have been an excellent training experience for the two young men. For the first day and a half that's exactly what it was, and then everything went to hell in a hand basket._

_Usagi was yanked out of an uneasy sleep by the shrill scream of his master's whistle. He was up and moving before his conscious mind processed just what that whistle meant: get your charge and get out! Within thirty seconds Usagi was fully dressed and out the door. He found a frightened young Nyoto already awake, though it took a little prodding to get him up and ready to go. Neither young man was prepared for the carnage awaiting them in the darkened hallways. Usagi's first thought was 'it smells like the slaughter house out here.' Turn out, he wasn't too far off. They only made it to the end of their hallway when they, quite literally, stumbled across the first body. Faced with the blood and carnage, Usagi was barely able to retain the contents of his stomach; Nyoto wasn't._

_Running through various escape routes his master had made him memorize, Usagi ultimately decided on one he thought would serve them best. It was a bit further out of the way, but it would hopefully provide them greater cover and less chance of detection. Nyoto, unfortunately, did not agree with his choice._

"_There is an exit just around the corner," he argued. "Why can't we just go that way?"_

"_Because whoever, or whatever, is killing people is most likely waiting out there too," Usagi countered. "It is too dangerous."_

"_You're supposed to be my bodyguard," Nyoto pointed out snottily. "Fighting the bad guys is your job."_

"_No, my job is keeping you alive," Usagi told him. "I can't do that if I get taken out by a superior opponent or outnumbered by the enemy. So I suggest you stop arguing with me and follow my lead so we can get out of here. Whoever is doing this doesn't seem interested in taking prisoners, and they could very well decide to destroy the house once they're done. We need to be long gone by then."_

_That seemed to put the young lordling in his place, and the pair began to make their way as quickly and silently through the house as they could. After coming across the fifth or sixth gory corpse, shock began to set in blunting the horror and fear that had been ravaging the two young men's emotions. The numbness didn't last long, however, before it was stripped away by terror-fueled adrenaline._

_Usagi and Nyoto were almost to their exit point when the sound of bumping and skittering coming from behind them caught their attention. To their horror they found they were being pursued by a Kritchure. All at once, the bloodbath they'd encountered throughout the house made sense. The hive-minded insectoid race excelled at one thing: killing. They were the perfect death squad, using their razor-sharp, mantis-like forelimbs to cut down anything or anyone in their path, not stopping until whoever controlled them forced them to. And now, there was one of those organic killing machines tracking _them_._

_Swallowing hard Usagi knew there was only one thing to do. He would give his ship's locator and remote access to Nyoto and tell him the emergency signal that would summon help from the master's back at the school, as well as the closest available warriors. If fate willed and the deities allowed, Usagi would last long enough to allow Nyoto to get beyond the Kritchure's sensory range._

_Knowing they didn't have much time, Usagi set his plan in motion. Nyoto wasn't happy, but Usagi refused to waste time arguing with him. The Kritchure knew they were there, but it hadn't locked onto them yet. That would change as soon as Nyoto made his run for the exit; he would need all the time Usagi's inevitable death could buy him._

_At the young warrior's word, Nyoto took off for the exit. Sure enough, the movement captured the Kritchure's attention, and the terrifying creature immediately moved after its prey. It wasn't expecting its path to be blocked by a young, half-grown warrior. Incensed at the obstruction, the Kritchure lashed out with its scythe-like forelimb, and Usagi was barely able to get out of the way._

_A sense of foreboding filled Usagi. He'd heard Kritchures were fast, but he hadn't expected them to be this fast. His chances of holding off the deadly alien long enough for Nyoto to reach safety had suddenly dropped by more than half. The alien's armor-like exoskeleton made it nearly impervious to his blade, and it moved too quickly for him to make contact with its more vulnerable points. All Usagi could hope to do was weave and dodge and keep the Kritchure's attention on himself long enough to give Nyoto a chance._

_The plan was working, until Usagi's feet got tangled up in some unseen debris on the dark floor. Thrown off balance just slightly, he was unable to get completely out of the way of the next strike. Being a glancing blow, it didn't disembowel him as it was intended to do, but the wound was still dangerously deep, and blood loss would very quickly become an issue._

_Usagi was in serious trouble, and both he and the Kritchure knew it. With an excited hiss-click, the deadly alien moved in for the kill, only the blow never landed. Instead, it was intercepted by the most unusual looking individual Usagi had ever seen. Given the darkness of the room, Usagi couldn't make out much about his unexpected savior, but there was no missing the glowing blue marks that covered the majority of his body. Usagi wasn't certain where he had come from, given that he was hard to miss in the dark due to those glowing marks that marked his presence, but he couldn't help but be glad to see him._

_The battle between the Kritchure and the stranger was almost a replay of Usagi's fight, only in reverse. No matter how fast the Kritchure moved, the stranger was that much faster. Usagi blamed his increasing blood loss causing him to zone in and out, but it seemed like the stranger was disappearing in and out of the shadows like he was some sort of shadow himself. The last thing Usagi was aware of was the oddly silent warrior moving in for the kill._

_TMNT_

_When Usagi returned to consciousness, he was stunned to find himself back at the school, his obviously injured master at his side, three days after the attack. It took a couple days more before he finally got the whole story. After killing the Kritchure, his rescuer had bound up his wound and carried him to the waiting ship where, miraculously, Nyoto was waiting, unharmed. Somehow, the babbling, terrified youngster had managed to explain that both his father and Usagi's master were missing somewhere back in the carnage of the house. The silent warrior had, at the point, simply slipped back into the shadows, only to reappear nearly an hour later, Nyoto's gravely injured father and a slightly less injured Master Hatti in tow. After doing his best to see to the two injured adults, the young warrior, who had turned out to be a turtle of all things, had helped Nyoto send the distress call. He had then waited around for nearly a day, until help arrived. That's when he disappeared once more into the night…_

**Present**

"It took me nearly two years to figure out just who our rescuer was," Usagi said. "Thanks to the marks, my master was able to identify him as a Chi'Tarri Shadow warrior, but that was all I knew about him."

"Why were you so interested in finding him," Raphael asked, a little more of his usual growl back in his voice.

"I owe him my life, as well as the lives of my master and our two charges," Usagi replied. "I was, and am, determined to do what I can to pay him back."

"So how does Bishop play into all of this," Donatello queried.

"His people found out I was looking for a turtle Shadow Warrior," Usagi explained. "Bishop found me and wanted to know why. After hearing my story, he said he might be able to help. I might be young, but I'm not stupid. I wanted to know why he would be willing to help me find my rescuer. He explained that his reasons were his own, but that they wouldn't interfere with the life-debt I owe your brother. That was about a year ago. About four months ago, Bishop contacted me to let me know he'd found your brother. He invited me here so that when the time was right, I could present myself to him and enter his service as his bondsman."

"Wait, his what," Michelangelo asked in confusion.

"I owe your brother my life," Usagi explained more carefully. "Since he is not here, as his kinsman I will offer my oath to you in his stead. Very simply, as his bondsman, it is my duty and my honor to guard him, with my life if necessary, from now until my debt is paid."

"And how long is that," Raphael asked.

"I owe him my life, so my life is what he'll get," was Usagi's simple response.

* * *

**So, I had a reviewer who said the turtles should have met Usagi already at the Battle Nexus-this is AU: no Battle Nexus. And just to warn everyone, we probably won't be seeing Leo for a while. My muse is being absolutely stubborn on this point. However, we will see the reaction from the boys when they find out Splinter's true history. That should be interesting to say the least. So please stick with me, and we'll see how this goes.**


	21. Strange Feeling in my Gut

**This is a very short chapter, for which I am sorry. I have fought and fought with this chapter trying to get it written, and this is the best my muse could come up with. She is being quite stubborn at the moment (channeling Raphael, I suspect). Anyway, not much really happens, but hopefully I can get the next chapter more quickly. Oh, and please excuse the medical inaccuracies. As always, I'm taking a few liberties for the sake of the story.**

* * *

When Raphael awoke the next morning, it was with a bit of surprise; he hadn't expected to fall asleep at all, given whose "hospitality" he and his brothers were now enjoying. He chalked his unexpected relaxation up to Usagi. The young warrior had promised to keep watch over Leo while the older turtle was in surgery, and to come for them if anything changed. Raphael couldn't explain it, but he'd known they could trust Usagi. He'd learned long ago to trust his instincts, which is why, when he got his second shock of the morning and his gut told him something seriously wrong was going on, he didn't doubt it, even if the "wrong-ness vibe" was coming from his own father.

This second shock came as Raphael was climbing out of bed. After coming fully awake, Raphael took a few minutes to reorient himself in his unfamiliar surroundings. Once he'd identified the admittedly comfortable bed as the one he'd settled on the night before in Bishop's guest room, Raphael turned his attention to the rest of the room. To his left was the second bed where he could hear his brother's still snoring softly. He could tell by the odd, fluttery sounds Donatello was making that the younger turtle was beginning to wake up, but he still had a little while before his brother was fully awake. Deciding to take advantage of being the first one awake, Raphael rolled out of bed to head to the bathroom. What he wasn't expecting was to almost land on his father, who was sitting silently between the two beds, obviously deep in his morning meditation.

Raphael was startled by his father's unanticipated presence, but something else about seeing his father sitting there left him feeling more than a little unsettled. Sure, he vaguely remembered Bishop saying something about alerting their sensei as to what was going on, but to have his father actually sitting there so calmly, well, it just felt off. Taking a mental step back, Raphael attempted to work out just what about his father's presence had him so unsettled. Part of it, he acknowledged, was due to the disagreement that had taken place the night before, followed by Donatello's startling revelation, and then Leo's, or rather Shadowblade's, battle with those alien hunters. Sure, Splinter hadn't been there to see it, but surely the injury of one of his sons, even one he hadn't seen for over ten years, would have elicited more of response than this?

_You're making too much of this,_ Raphael told himself. _We all know Master Splinter uses meditation to help himself relax during stressful situations; it's just what he does._ _After all, this isn't the first time we've been the 'guests' of a potentially hostile host._

That's when Raphael realized just what about his father's behavior disturbed him; the rat was too calm, too at ease. Splinter might use mediation to calm his mind, but his body was always alert. Whether it was a twitching ear or a tense tail, there was always physiological sign that his father was poised to move at a moment's notice. Right now, though, his father was too tranquil, and Raphael didn't like it one bit. His gut was screaming that everything about this whole situation was seriously wrong. They were in the heart of their enemy's stronghold, one of their own was grievously hurt, and Splinter was deep enough in his meditation that he didn't even notice his second oldest almost fall on top of him. Oh, yeah, there was something wrong with this picture all right.

Forcing his thoughts back for later consideration, Raphael continued on to the bathroom. Once his brother were up and mobile, they'd go hunt down Usagi; maybe then they'd start getting some answers to the riddles that had suddenly inundated their lives.

TMNT

By the time Raphael emerged from the bathroom, his brothers had likewise crawled out of bed, and Splinter had emerged from his meditation. Even through the bathroom door Raphael could hear the soft murmur of voices as his brothers greeted their father. Raphael didn't have to hear the particulars to know his brothers were as off-put by their father's presence as he'd been. Given then they now suspected about their father, it was no wonder his brothers were treating their father like he was some sort of stranger; after the night before, he was one. Once more pushing those thoughts from his mind, Raphael opened the bathroom and was greeted by the smell of breakfast. Grinning, Raphael stepped out to greet the rabbit warrior who was waiting with the rest of his family.

"Good morning," Raphael said as his brothers looked up at his entrance. "Everyone sleep well last night?" After getting everyone's concurrence that they had indeed passed the night comfortably, Raphael turned to Usagi and asked the question he most wanted an answer to. "What about Leo? Is he…?"

"I have good news and bad news, my friends," Usagi said. "Your brother is alive, and the doctors were able to repair the internal damage, but that is as good as it gets. The bad news is there was a lot of damage. I don't know if you are aware of this, but the liver bleeds quite fiercely when hit, and your brother took quite the strike last night. On top of that, his left lung was pierced, and collapsed. All this would lead to severe consequences by themselves, but your brother does not do anything by halves. He would have been in trouble simply with the collapsed lung, but that was compounded by the fact that the liver wound was gushing blood into the thoracic cavity. The extra pressure on his good lung made it difficult for him to pull in enough oxygen, and the doctors…"

"They're worried about brain damage," Donatello finished for him.

"That is only the start," Usagi said. "It turns out the blade that hunter used on your brother was poisoned. Thanks to Bishop, we are able to counter the toxin, but it is going to take some time. In the meantime, the doctors have placed your brother into a medically induced coma. He is also on full life support. They want to give him the best chance to pull through, and they feel this is it."

"What are his chances," Raphael asked quietly.

"Depends on who you ask," Usagi replied. "The doctors only give him a 20% chance."

"You don't agree," Raphael said with certainty. "You think his chances are better than that."

"The doctors do not know Leonardo the way we do," Usagi confirmed. "He is too strong a warrior."

"Not to mention flat out too stubborn," Raphael said. "If he could survive what those Chi'Tarri bastards did to him, his can get through this."

"Indeed," Usagi agreed. "But explain this to me Raphael, my friend. Why did you not ask your father for this information? He spoke directly to Bishop this morning before coming here. I rather gathered from their discussion the two of them were, at the very least, old acquaintances. He could have given you this information as easily as I."

All eyes turned to the elderly rat. Raphael's gut clenched when he saw no denial or apology in his father's countenance. Before Raphael could question his father, Michelangelo beat him to it.

"What is he talking about sensei," the youngest turtle asked.

Splinter sighed in resignation. "Take a seat my sons. The young ronin is correct; Bishop and I _are_ old acquaintances. But there is much more to the story, and while I'd hoped to do this on my timing, it would seem it is not to be. So if you will settle in, I will tell the true tale of our history."

* * *

**So, kinda a cliffhanger, but not really since we've already heard most of this from Bishop. Still, I think we will get some new details from Splinter.**


	22. Do We Know This Stranger?

**So this is a monster chapter that took me forever to get written. That's because it's mostly from Splinter, and I don't like writing him. There is no real action in this chapter, but we get more back story. And if, as you read this, you realize it doesn't quite gel with other things we've learned already in this story: It Was Done On Purpose! Still, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

It took a few moments, but everyone eventually found a comfortable position on the floor or bed around Splinter. Usagi had offered to leave, but the three turtles insisted he stay. For better or worse he'd been accepted into their family, and Raphael felt it was important for him to hear whatever his sensei had to say.

"Our story," Splinter said once everyone was seated, "begins over one hundred years ago, with a soldier from this nation's civil war."

"Bishop," Donatello guessed.

"Yes," the elderly rat confirmed. "He was a young man, fighting on the side of the Confederacy, when he was stolen away from everything he'd ever known and thrown into a world of aliens and monsters as cruel and heartless as they were beautiful. Many men wouldn't have had the mental or physical fortitude to survive such an event mentally intact, but Bishop did. He not only survived, he thrived in it. So seductive and subtle was his enslavement, for a long time he wasn't even aware he had been enslaved. Year after year he lived, blissfully unaware of the chains tying him down; his only desire to do the will of his mistress."

"The beauty, and cruelty, of the Chi'Tarri queens is well known throughout the universe," Usagi confirmed, "though it has been many generations since one has been seen away from their home planet. It is legend among my people that the Pale queens use those that serve them until there is nothing left of them to give. For Bishop to have survived so long in the service of one of those monsters speaks highly of his strength."

"Quite so," Splinter said, "and there is no telling how long he would have continued in her service had his eyes not been wrenched open in regard to her true nature and opinion of him. Needless to say, from that day forward Bishop began working to gain his freedom and the downfall of the Chi'Tarri."

"This is all really fascinating," Raphael said, a healthy amount of skepticism in his voice, "but what about the bond? How did he get around that?"

"The Chi'Tarri are a very arrogant race," his sensei replied. "Their mindset would not allow them to even consider the possibility that one of their trainees could possible rebel against them, especially not one supposedly as enamored of his queen's charms as Bishop was believed to be. So while he kept up a show of loyalty and devotion, Bishop began working to covertly undermine his slavers."

"You have to appreciate the irony," Donatello commented at that point. "The former Confederate soldier now fighting to end slavery on a distant world.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, irony's a bitch," Raphael growled, "but what does this have to do with us?"

"In a word? Everything," Splinter told him. "Bishop was determined to destroy the Chi'Tarri completely. However, he knew he wouldn't be able to do it. He'd gotten as far as he could in his Shadow training, which was quite extensive, but not nearly far enough to be able to present any real challenge to the Chi'Tarri in any sort of meaningful confrontation. He concluded he needed a warrior who could help even the odds. Ultimately, he determined a Terran based life form was essential because we have a natural resistance to the bond. With that decided, he began making contacts and gathering allies from all over, some human, some not. Their skills covered everything from genetics and biology to martial arts and military tactics."

At this point, the rat stopped for a moment to consider his words before continuing with his story. "Since it was proven a human just wouldn't have the physical stamina or strength to complete the Shadow training, it was concluded that Earth's champion would have to be something other or more than human. So the scientists, under Bishop's direction and instruction, began working on various forms of genetic manipulation. Their ultimate success was with recombinant mutation, where animal genetic material was disassembled and then re-assembled and mutated using replacement human genetic material; I was their first viable survivor. Once I was mature enough, my training began."

"So let me make sure I understand," Michelangelo interrupted. "Nothing you've ever told us about our history has been true? No broken canister, no ooze? It was all a lie?"

"More like a necessary distortion of the truth," Splinter countered. "Please, let me finish my tale and you shall see why we couldn't tell you the actual truth. Now, as I said, when I was old enough, my training began at the hands of Bishop's second in command, the warrior Hamato Yoshi. Together with his sister Keiko, Master Yoshi became first my teacher, then my friends, and finally my family. By the time my training was complete, I had come to consider Yoshi to be my brother and Keiko as something between a sister and a mother. I loved them both dearly, and it was this love that gave me the strength and determination to accept what I knew I would have to endure at the hands of the Chi'Tarri. Everything was going according to plan, and we were nearly ready to set the plan in motion, when Bishop betrayed us."

"Bishop being treacherous," Raphael scoffed under his breath. "Who didn't see that coming?"

Donatello thumped his brother on the shell. "Please continue, sensei. What happened?"

"When Master Yoshi and his clan allied themselves with Bishop, it was with the promise that he would assist them in defeating then enemy they had dedicated themselves to destroying: Oroku Saki, the Destroyer. We know him as…"

"The Shredder," Michelangelo finished for him.

"Yes," Splinter hissed. "An evil almost as old as the Chi'Tarri, though with far less reach. It was a mutually beneficial agreement, until Bishop went back on his word. You see, Yoshi , Keiko, and their forces had been watching carefully, preparing for the day when Saki would present them with the opportunity to strike. To ensure their success, Bishop vowed he would personally fight at their side, but when the time came, Bishop did not show. Afraid they would not get a second chance, my family took the opening and attacked. Due to my role in the fight against the Chi'Tarri, I wasn't permitted to go with them. That was the last time I saw Yoshi or Keiko alive. The few survivors returned to report Yoshi was slain by Saki himself. Keiko simply disappeared; no one in their company knew what had happened to her or where she had gone. She just vanished. In one night, I lost my entire family."

The room went silent at the elderly rat's obvious grief. After a long moment, when it was clear the turtles weren't sure how, or even if, they should respond to their father, Usagi softly asked on their behalf, "What of Bishop? What explanation did he give for his absence?"

"None, except to say he had unavoidable personal business that could not wait," Splinter replied. "I might have been able to accept that, eventually, but then I was informed our plan for me to infiltrate the Chi'Tarri was no long viable. Whatever he had done had destroyed any chance of me fulfilling my purpose. Instead, we would have to start over from the beginning. I couldn't have been more furious. My family was dead, my purpose thwarted, and so I had nothing left. I remember arguing with Bishop that if he was going to throw away everything we'd been working for, the least he could have done was inform us so that I could have gone with my adopted clan. I might not have been able to do anything to save my brother, but at the least I could have been there with him. Dying at his side would have been preferable to facing life without him!"

"So that part of our history is true at least," Raphael muttered gruffly. "Master Yoshi really was killed by the Shredder."

"Yes," Splinter whispered, grief and pain still clear in his voice, even after all these years. Visibly pulling himself back together, the grizzled rat continued with his story. "For months after that, I refused to speak to anyone, too caught up in my sorrow. Even once I was able to actually start working through the mourning process, I still couldn't stand to be in the same room as Bishop. Things might have continued like that indefinitely if we had not found Keiko's body. She had been killed and her body abandoned in an alley not far from here. She had only been dead a few days, but there was extensive evidence of repeated abuse. The most devastating news, however, was that she had given birth just days before her death."

"Did you ever find out what happened to the baby," Michelangelo asked.

"No," Splinter replied. "There has never been any sign of the child. We never knew if it was a boy or girl, and there was no way of knowing who the father was. Whoever killed Keiko did too good a job as sanitizing the body, removing all evidence that might have led to the ones who did that to her."

"So what did you do," Donatello asked, knowing how maddening it must have been for his sensei to be unable to find the one who had killed his clan-sister.

"After laying the last of my family to rest, I began to plan," Splinter responded. "The shock of Keiko's death shocked me out of my mourning, and helped me to stop simply reacting and begin thinking again. I no longer cared about Bishop's war against the Chi'Tarri; I had my own vendetta to fulfill. I took as my duty the mission my adopted clan had died trying to achieve: the destruction of Oroku Saki. This is where the four of you enter the story.

Since he could no longer use me to infiltrate the Chi'Tarri, Bishop had his scientists working endless to try and create another viable mutant. Without Keiko, though, the process slowed to a crawl. Not only had my brother's sister been a brilliant scientist, she had also been a powerful Healer. It was these skills that allowed her to identify and attempt to correct the often fatal flaws in the developing fetuses. I told you I saw her as something of a mother; that's because I would not have survived if not for her."

"While I'm sorry for your loss, I'm still not sure what this has to do with us," Raphael growled.

"Knowing I couldn't take Saki down by myself, and with too few members of my clan left to help, I decided to use Bishop's science for my own means. After all, it was ultimately Bishop's fault my family was dead; he owed me. If he could create a champion for his war against the Chi'Tarri, why not one or two more I could mold to fight against my enemy?

Now up until then, the mutation experiments had focuses on mammals. At my suggestion, the scientists turned their focus to amphibians and reptiles. After all, it has been demonstrated in the wild that these creatures are much more sensitive to genetic mutation and environmental factors. While the scientists accepted my reasoning, they weren't aware I had a more personal motivation. I figured if we could get a whole clutch of eggs and hatchlings to take the mutation, Bishop could choose one to train as his mole, and I could take the rest to for my mission."

If Usagi was struck by the rat's callous attitude, he couldn't imagine how it was hitting the turtles. Before any of them could verbalize a response, though, Splinter resumed his story.

"It didn't take long for us to have our first success," he said. "Unfortunately, there was only one survivor from that clutch of eggs; an alligator we ended up naming Leatherhead. At first glance, he seemed to be an excellent candidate. Strength and intelligence-wise he was off the charts. However, as he grew it became clear he had…emotional issues. Leatherhead was fine, until his temper got pricked, and then he would turn into a berserker, completely unable to control himself. Not the kind of individual you would want in an undercover operation. In the end, Leatherhead was partnered with Professor Honeycutt, one of our head scientists. They were a good pair; they balanced each other out. From there, we moved on. After several less successful attempts, we finally started work with a batch of turtle eggs. We started with 12 eggs, but only 4 survived the genetic manipulation; you four.

As soon as we were certain you would live, I began to lay my plans. For my strategy to work, I had to gain control of your raising and training. Bishop almost threw a wrench in my plans by suggesting we allow each of you to be raised by a different trainer, but I couldn't allow that. I convinced Bishop that it would be better for his champion if he was raised with a family. That familial bond would make him stronger, would give him a reason to fight the Chi'Tarri. I was able to persuade Bishop to let me take on the job of raising and training you. He agreed, since I had been hand trained by Master Yoshi. I could prepare in a way no one else could. His only condition was that I had to be hypnotized so that I couldn't inadvertently reveal anything to you that would eventually get back to the Chi'Tarri. I couldn't allow that to happen if I was to satisfy my desire to defeat the Shredder. Again fortune smiled on me, for our most accomplished hypnotist was also of my clan; you all know him as the Ancient One. He pretended to hypnotize me, which allowed me to take the four of you and move out from under Bishop's eye. I knew we were safe from him interference because if the Chi'Tarri had even the slightest suspicion that he was somehow connected with whichever one of you ended up in their hands, that individual would be killed instantly, and they'd never take another Terran again."

"And Bishop never suspected a thing, even after all these years," Donatello asked in a strangled whisper.

"Bishop sees what he wants to see," Splinter said. "He thinks my yearly trips to visit the Ancient One have to do with my guilt over what happened to Leonardo. In truth, we are doing continual surveillance of Oroku Saki's empire, looking for a weakness we can exploit."

"So our whole lives have been a lie," Michelangelo said hoarsely. "You never really loved us. We were just a means to an end. You've been playing a part for us just like you've done for Bishop all these years."

"Don't be ridiculous, Michelangelo," Splinter said. "You three are my fam…"

"Enough," Raphael hissed, cutting him off. "I've heard enough. You call us your family, but we mean no more to you than pawns on a chess board. And you're mistaken; there are four of us. You may disregard Leonardo, but he is our brother. He's not Bishop's secret weapon, just like we're not your little soldiers. And you never loved us. All you can feel anymore is anger and a thirst for revenge. You said it yourself: the last of your family dies with Keiko. Well guess what, sensei. We're through. As of this moment, you mean nothing to us. You and Bishop can play your little games, but we're done. Since you and the Ancient One are such good partners, you can go stay with him from now on. We don't want to see your face again."

"My sons—"Splinter started to protest, but he was cut off once more, this time by Donatello.

"You heard Raphael. You mean nothing to us. Now go!"

Without another word, the elderly rat climbed to his feet and, without another look back, left the room.

* * *

**So, I'm sure you've noticed Splinter's story and Bishop's story don't quite match up. That's because this Splinter is a bit of a heartless bastard and has been fooling everyone for years. I'm not sure if we'll see Splinter again after this; guess it all depends on how the muse wants to play it. And how will this ultimately affect the turtles' family dynamic? After all, even though he doesn't know it yet, Leonardo was just abandoned by his father once again. We shall have to wait and see.**


	23. Stranger Amongst Us

**So here is the next chapter. It's a fairly long one to make up for how long it's been since the last chapter. No more Splinter in this story, but I have plans for him. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. Oh, and keep in mind that I've taken quite a bit of liberty with medical facts. And if you're the easily grossed out by medical stuff, you might want to be aware we talk a little more in detail about Leo's injuries.**

* * *

For a long while after Splinter's departure the turtles and Usagi sat in bewildered, gloomy silence. Predictably, Raphael was the first to break the silence. With a cry of wordless anger and grief he leapt to his feet and struck out at the nearest stationary target, which in this case happened to be the bathroom door. His hurt and fury was such that he drove his fist through the solid wood, not even mindful of the pain that resulted.

"Raphael," Donatello exclaimed, jumping to his feet and rushing to his brother's side. "Get yourself under control! You aren't going to do Leo any good by hurting yourself. Now, hold still and let me see your hand."

Still fidgeting from the pent-up tension and anger roiling through him, Raphael diffidently allowed his brother to inspect his hand.

"I just can't believe him," Raphael ranted as Donatello examined the damage he'd done to himself. "Year upon year of lies and falsehoods, and we're just supposed to accept it. And then, on top of that, he expects us to turn our backs on Leo, just after getting him back, just to fulfill his crazy desire for revenge."

"I do not mean to intrude on what it obviously a family matter," Usagi said, "and I in no way condone our elder's actions, but I have seen grief cause some very unexpected behaviors, even among the strongest warriors. It's like their grief breaks something inside them and it never quite heals correctly. From what we heard your former sensei, he experienced enough loss to destroy even the most grounded of individuals. To lose not only his family, but essentially his whole purpose in life? I can't begin to understand how that must have felt."

"I think we can all agree Splinter was definitely broken," Michelangelo agreed. "We've known it for a long time; we just didn't recognize it at the time. Right now, though, I'm angry and hurt, once again by Splinter's actions, and while I feel sorry for Splinter, I can't accept what he did. Beyond that, I still have more questions about this whole thing. I mean, did you specifically choose Leo as his sacrificial lamb, or would any of us have been acceptable? And did any of us ever mean anything more to him than just expendable pieces in his plan for vengeance?"

"What I'd like to know," Donatello said as he finally released Raphael's hand, satisfied his older brother had done only surface damage to it, "is just how much of Splinter's story Bishop was truly unaware of before today. And since I'm certain he heard the whole thing via the bugs I know are planted around the room, and since he's most like still listening in now, why doesn't he join us and present his side of things?"

No one was particularly shocked when, moments later, a knock sounded at the door before Bishop let himself in.

"Since I'm sure you have other, more pressing matters you'd rather be dealing with," Bishop said without preamble, "I will be blunt. No, I didn't realize your guardian and former teacher and his allies had deceived me so thoroughly. I genuinely believed he cared for you all as a father should. The Splinter I had known as a youngling would never have treated another living being so callously. I realize now I was too wrapped up in my own loss to realize the damage wrought by Yoshi and Keiko's deaths."

"Just out of curiosity, why didn't you answer their calls for help," Donatello asked. "If you truly cared for them, why didn't go to their aid?"

"I couldn't tell Splinter at the time, but I had gone to rescue my daughter from the Chi'Tarri," Bishop admitted. "I couldn't let her be raised by those monsters, but I wasn't fit to raise her myself. I may not have been as broken as Splinter, but I certainly wasn't whole. I'm still not. Still, I did the best I could to protect her. I had her anonymously turned over to child welfare, though I did use my influence to make sure she was well looked after. So while Splinter was mourning his family, so was I. Unfortunately, your family paid the price for our grief."

"So what happens now," Michelangelo asked. "To Splinter and to us?"

"Splinter will be escorted to the home of his closest ally, the one you call the Ancient One," Bishop said. "I'm not sure how he will react after your…dismissal of him, but I fear it will not be pleasant. For that reason, my people will make sure they keep their distance from you. Splinter needs time to cool off, and your family needs time to process everything that has come to light. Beyond that, I did make a promise to Splinter's clan that I would help them. I intend to keep my promise to help take down Saki. If they find the opening they need, they won't face him alone this time."

"And what about us," Raphael demanded. "What do you plan on doing with us?"

"For the time being, I am going to escort you to your brother's side. He's going to need you as he heals and recovers. At that point, the decision will belong to your family. I won't deny that I could use your help. Your brother is exactly the kind of warrior I was hoping for, to help defeat the Chi'Tarri. He's smart, powerful, and driven by a desire to protect all he loves. You can't instill that; it has to come from within. He would make a fearsome weapon against the Chi'Tarri. However, I am not like _them; _I am not a slaver. The four of you, and now your new bond-brother, belong to yourselves and each other. I will accept whatever decision you make. Side with me or not, the decision is yours. Now, what do you say we go find Leonardo? I think the lot of you have been apart long enough."

TMNT

The little female entity Bishop introduced the family to was as far away from what they'd imagined Leo's doctor being like as she could be. The communal thought shared by all of them was 'she's too…cute.' That was the only way to describe the young woman. At not even five feet tall, she was shorter than any of the turtles, and over a foot shorter than Usagi, though the size of her personality made her physical size almost unnoticeable. Her size, however, was not the most unusual thing about the petite doctor. No, that honor went to the lady's other physical attributes. To start with, despite her human-like features, the bubble-gum pink color of her skin, coupled with the baby-blue of her feather-like hair made it clear Earth was not part of her ancestry. If that wasn't enough, the pair of translucent wings on her back, a blue several shades darker than her hair, would have confirmed it.

The turtles weren't quite sure what to make of the unusual doctor, when Usagi's unexpectedly turned to Bishop and said, "This is not the doctor I spoke to this morning regarding my bondsman's condition."

The little female doctor smiled ruefully as she said, "No, you spoke to Doctor O'toma. Afterward, it was made clear that he was not…compatible with the patient's family; something about him being too inflexible. But don't worry; I've been involved with your brother's care from the moment he came in. Oh, you can call me Maggie, since my real name is impossible for Terrans to pronounce."

The three turtles and Usagi could only stare at Maggie in goggle-eyed shock. Outside of Michelangelo, they'd never heard anyone say so much without stopping to breathe.

"Um, hi," Donatello finally managed. "I…I'm Donatello, and these are my brothers Raphael and Michelangelo. This is Usagi; he's bound himself to our family through debt to Leonardo."

"I'm so pleased to meet you," the pixie-faced doctor gushed once introductions were completed, her wings fluttering in barely controlled enthusiasm. "I just wish it could have been under better circumstances."

"Us too," Donatello replied. "Now, I know the doctor this morning already filled Usagi in on Leo's condition, but we'd like to hear it firsthand."

"But in English, please," Michelangelo added. "Not all of us speak geek."

Maggie's laughter, light and brief, sounded, quite literally, like the delicate tinkling of a wind chime, and the mere sound relaxed something in the turtles none of them had realized was tense. "I think I can do that," she told him. Let's take a seat here in the waiting room, and I will fill you in." Once everyone was seated, Maggie said, "Let's start with the wound to your brother's liver. By itself that would was fatal since the liver bleeds heavily if lacerated. This led to extensive internal bleeding, which created a secondary problem, as the buildup of blood and fluid in Leonardo's chest cavity began to put pressure on his other organs, preventing them from working properly. Of particular concern were the strain the pressure put on his heart and lung. This leads directly to our third major concern. When Leonardo was stabbed the second time, his lung was penetrated, causing it to collapse. While normally a serious condition in and of itself, the situation was made worse by the internal bleeding, as that made it difficult for your brother's other lung to fully expand, thus limiting the amount of oxygen reaching his brain and other organs. The internal bleeding also made it difficult to get his lung re-inflated was it was repaired. All this combined gives rise to a very real concern that there might be some oxygen-deprivation induced brain damage."

"Usagi also mentioned something about Leonardo being poisoned," Raphael said.

"He was, and unfortunately the toxin on the blades reacts in a very specific manner," Maggie said. "It targets the brain, creating a condition very similar to encephalitis. In non-geek speak, it causes swelling and irritation of the brain. Now, we were able to identify and neutralize the poison quickly, but the effects had already set in."

"Hence the reason for the medically induced coma," Donatello concluded. "Until the swelling goes down, you won't be able to determine how extensive the damage is, and if there were any weak spot created by the oxygen deprivation, the added trauma caused by the poison could make it worse."

"Precisely," Maggie said. "The coma we placed your brother in is intended to allow your brother's brain to rest and repair itself as much as possible."

"I didn't think the brain could repair injuries," Michelangelo said.

"The normal human brain can't," Maggie replied. "It can make new connections and relearn things, but damaged areas can't come back. However, due to the mutation process you four underwent, your brains have a little more ability to repair damage, as long as it is not too extensive."

"So when can we see him," Raphael asked.

"You can all go see him right now," Maggie declared. "I'll be happy to take you to him myself."

"All of us," Donatello asked. "All at once? You aren't going to limit the number of visitors or anything like that?"

"Why would I want to limit the amount of positive energy allowed into your brother's healing room," Maggie asked, genuinely perplexed. "Among my people healing is very much a social action, with family and friends, even children, gathered around to provide support for the sick or injured. I'm certainly not going to deny your brother the presence of his family and bond-brother; that would just be silly and irresponsible of me."

The brothers could hold back their smiles. "What are we waiting for," Michelangelo asked.

* * *

**So Leo will finally reappear next chapter, though he's in a coma at the moment. We will get to see some interaction between the brothers, even if Leo can't really respond. A little comfort to go with all the hurt that's been taking place.**


End file.
